My Game Plan
by daydreaminofhorses
Summary: A fanfiction based on the Disney movie, "The Game Plan". Joe is an obnoxious, arrogant, ladies man, pro-football player. Jenna is a quiet, shy, conservative journalist. What will happen when they meet and Joe takes a liking to Jenna?
1. Preface

Disclaimer: Most major characters/events/settings are taken from the Disney movie, The Game Plan and are not mine. I have described the characters/events/settings to best fit my story. I know that some of the characters would probably never act as they do in my story, but depending on the circumstances, they have to for my story.

This is just a fan fiction on "The Game Plan"!!

Tip for better reading: To get the best visual of Joe Kingman, he is played by Dwayne 'the Rock' Johnson in "The Game Plan", and that's how I envisioned Joe to look.

Please, give me constructive criticism! No flames!!

**Preface**

"How did I get stuck with the sports column _again_?" I shouted at my best friend, Lindsey. We were seated on my comfy couch in my cozy apartment, watching a new episode of "What Not to Wear". It was a Friday night and we ate pizza and popcorn as we watched. "I mean, I've been writing for the _Boston Press_ for almost a year and I still get the jobs that nobody wants," I complained.

"What happened to the normal sports journalist?" Lindsey asked, taking a sip of Coke.

"He just got fired and they're looking for a new journalist. Until then, it's my job," I explained.

"I thought you were only supposed to cover things like the war in Iraq, if J.K. Rowling has a new book out or the crowd at the latest _Twilight _movie. How come you have to fill in for this guy too? Don't they have interns for stuff like that?" She asked.

"Unfortunately, we have no interns at the moment and everyone else is up to their eyeballs in work. I am too but I guess it doesn't matter," I mumbled.

Just then, "What not to Wear" came back on and we both got quiet except for random comments about outfits the woman was wearing. Sometimes the outfits that these people wear are absolutely astounding. As the commercial came on again, Lindsey got back on the subject of my latest assignment. "So what do you have to write about for the sports column?" she asked.

"Oh you'll just love this. It's an interview with _Joe Kingman_." I growled.

"No way!" She gasped.

"Yeah."

"Well, maybe he isn't too bad," she tried to comfort me.

"Yeah, and maybe the war in Iraq will end soon," I scoffed, "I watched an interview with him on ESPN the other day, just to get some background information. Lindsey – the man has no life. You should have heard him, going on and on about how football is his life and outside the field nothing else matters. It was ridiculous! Besides, you've seen how he acts on TV, he never passes the ball to his teammates, he's exceedingly arrogant, his head is so swollen I'm surprised they found a helmet big enough to fit. He's an absolute jerk, and I have to interview him," I told her.

"Sounds like a nice guy," she remarked sarcastically, "well, it's only for a short amount of time. Maybe it won't be so bad. Where are you interviewing him anyway?"

"Arrangements were already made for us to have dinner at _his _restaurant next Friday," I replied.

"Oh, well that's just fantastic," Lindsey moaned, "Couldn't you arrange lunch instead? Dinner is when they get drunk and stupid," she remarked.

"I have no say in where we go or what we do, I just have to write the column," I told her.

"You have my sympathy," she muttered and our conversation ended as the hair and makeup portion of "What not to Wear" came on.

After a long "What not to Wear" marathon, Lindsey wearily left and I went to bed, in a pretty good mood until I remembered our conversation about the interview. I really didn't want to have to do this, but my career depended on it, and I loved my job. I'd have to just suck it up and get it over with. Maybe he wouldn't be so bad after all, like Lindsey said. Maybe he was actually really nice. Who was I kidding? It was going to be a nightmare. My worst nightmare. I've hated football players for my entire life and Joe Kingman was the most football player-ish person to walk the face of the earth! How did I get stuck with this job again? I wondered as I fell into a deep sleep and had dream after dream about having dinner with obnoxious football players. I was not looking forward to Friday.


	2. The Interview

**Chapter 1: The Interview**

Friday came much too fast, as is to be expected. Friday afternoon found Lindsey lounging on my bed and watching me bring out my entire closet. I was trying to find something suitable and business like to go to dinner in but I didn't want to look like a lawyer. My first choice, a navy blue, sleeveless V-neck dress with thick straps and a flowy hem Lindsey decided was much too pretty and it looked like I was going on a date with him. Definitely the wrong impression. I was rather upset by this too true fact – I'd been wanting to wear that dress for weeks and hadn't had the chance. Probably because it was too fancy for church and since I wasn't dating, I couldn't wear it out on dates.

After a long hour of searching through my closet, I found my cleanest pair of dark denim jeans, and a black babydoll shirt with short sleeves. I put on my favorite pair of black boots, my silver belt, and I curled my hair into gentle spirals (with a large amount of help from Lindsey and hair product), brushed on some sparkly brown eye shadow, put in my contacts and Lindsey helped me with my eyeliner. My favorite step I saved for last – strawberry flavored lip gloss (It tastes really good just incase the waiter took a long time and I got hungry).

"Jenna, I still think you look way too pretty to go out to dinner with this guy for an interview," Lindsey commented blankly as I came out of the bathroom.

"What do you want me to do, go in my sweatpants?" I retorted, still irritated that I had to do this. When I'm irritated I tend to take it out on innocent victims. "Besides, I'm sure I'm not nearly as beautiful as all of the other women that are constantly drooling over him and his stupid perfect teeth," I snapped the last few words – quite obviously envious. Stupid and arrogant as he may be, there is no denying that Joe Kingman has amazingly perfect teeth. My teeth are not exactly 'white' no matter how many times I whiten and brush them, and they're straight enough, but compared to his, I look like a hillbilly. That didn't matter, however, because I wasn't trying to impress him. I just had to be business like about this and do my job. After that, I would never have to associate with stupid, arrogant, perfect-teethed Joe Kingman ever again.

"Well, good luck," Lindsey mumbled as I pulled on my tight-fitting but very warm white coat. The weather had been extremely cold lately; Boston was just experiencing its first cold draft of fall. I'd been waiting for the cold to come in for a while, and just now in late October it was beginning. "Do you want me to stay here and watch Peanut?" She asked, referring to my large, Newfoundland-Sheltie dog. His head came up an inch above my hip (and I am five foot six). Peanut's real name is Mr. Peanut Man, which is a funny name for him because Peanut is nothing near peanut-sized. He is a big, furry dog, with copper and white fur, pointy yet floppy Sheltie ears, and a big feather-tail. His paws are the size of my fist and his nose is the size of a nectarine orange. However, there is no dog that is sweeter than Peanut. His favorite thing to do is lay as much of his body as he can in my lap and fall asleep while I watch a movie.

"Would you mind?" I asked.

"Of course not," Lindsey replied instantly. She loves Peanut. "His dog food is in the cupboard under the sink, right?" she checked.

"Right, and try to take him for a walk around the block after he eats. As long as he takes one good walk, he doesn't have to go out for the rest of the night. You can eat whatever you can find and watch whatever you like. Help yourself to anything except my toothbrush. I'll try to be back by eleven, hopefully sooner," I rolled my eyes and checked my watch. It was seven o'clock, and I had to meet him at seven-thirty. The restaurant, thankfully, was only a few blocks away. "Thank you so much," I sighed.

"No problem, you know I love staying here and watching Peanut. Hey, try to have a good time, maybe if you just loosen up a little you can have an almost okay time," she laughed.

"Thanks, I'll try," I muttered and hurried out the door calling good-bye over my shoulder.

I hurried downstairs and out the door of my apartment building where the door man insists on bringing my car to me no matter how many times I ask him to stop. He says that it isn't safe for a girl like me to go into the parking lot by myself. I disagree. Well, either way it saved me time tonight, which I was very thankful for when I got into my black Mustang and saw that the clock read 7:10. I played "I Got Nerve" (which is still my favorite song) while I was driving until the car shook from the volume. The lyrics seemed to help me gain some confidence, _I know where I stand, I know who I am, I would never run away when life gets bad it's everything I see, every part of me, I know I can change the world, yeah, yeah, yeah. I know what you're like, I know what you think, not afraid to stare you down until you blink, it's everything I see, every part of me, gonna get what I deserve, I got nerve!_ Yes, I would _never_ run away when life gets bad – I _did _know what he was like, I _did _know what he thought, I _wasn't _afraid to stare him down until he blinked!! Finally, the confidence I'd been waiting for. Thank goodness for Hannah Montana!

As I reached the restaurant and found a parking space, I was feeling much better about tonight and I walked to the door with my head held – well not high exactly but higher than before. Just as I was about to open the door of the restaurant, a hand reached out from behind me and opened it for me. I turned around to thank the person and who do you think it was but _Joe Kingman_! I stood for a moment with my mouth agape, trying to figure out what to say. After a second, I remembered why I was even here, and said, "Mr. Kingman! Hi, I'm Jenna Bodnar," I introduced myself, extending a hand.

"Oh, you're the one that gets to interview me!" he said, flashing one of those perfect smiles.

"Yeah, lucky me," I tried not to sound too sarcastic.

"Well, after you, Jenna," he said, gesturing at the open door. I entered, angry that he had decided to call me by my first name when I hadn't given him permission and _I _had called him Mr. Kingman. Grrr…. Celebrities.

The hostess asked how many and Joe stepped up next to me. "Two please," he said and smiled making the girl blush. I rolled my eyes. I was beginning to think he only did that to see the reaction that they had when he smiled at them. He liked to be reminded that he was handsome, rich, famous, popular – how disgusting.

The hostess led us to a table, though I was sure I'd seen a long waiting line at the door when we had come in. I suppose being the owner of a restaurant had its advantages. As the hostess laid our menus on the table and reminded us that our server would be with us momentarily I thought, _no dur, of course the server will be with us momentarily; if they aren't, they'll get fired. _I was just pulling my coat off when I felt hands at my shoulders. Thick, meaty, football-player hands._ He was helping me take my coat off_! I managed to mutter a thank-you before he _held my chair out for me _and I sat down, awed. How strange – the big, mean arrogant football player was being _nice_!

Joe sat down on the other side of the table and smiled again. I smiled back merely out of courtesy. "Would you like me to order some wine?" he asked me.

_NO! Not wine! That's _waaaaaaaay _too date-ish!! _"I don't drink," I replied, smiling.

"Really?" He seemed genuinely stunned. I nodded. "Odd," he muttered.

The waiter came by to ask us what we'd like to drink. I ordered water, and with his eyes still on me, scrutinizing me as if he still didn't believe that I refused to drink alcohol, he ordered water too.

"So, let's get down to business," I said, pulling my notepad out of my purse. I couldn't stand the way he stared and I had to change the subject – fast. I hadn't thought it informal until now to bring my Harry Potter purse. As I put it on the table to search for a pen, Joe started to laugh. "What?" I muttered, looking around for something funny.

"Is that purse made out of a _book_?" he asked. I looked down at my purse, perfectly made out of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_. It was in nearly perfect condition still, and I had only received compliments about it. In fact, in ninth grade a _football player_ commented several times on the 'awesomeness' of my old purse, made from _Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire_. He had enjoyed pretending he was reading a book, and then doing his makeup. Later I found out that the awesomeness of the purse was just a way to talk to me, but still, it was a good thing. No one had ever _laughed _at it before and I was offended. Like a child, I suddenly wanted to grab the purse and clutch it to my chest protectively as if to shield it from the scoffing of the big mean football player. However, I was a professional and professionals calmly take critique.

"Yes, it is made of a book," I answered, trying hard to keep my voice level.

He reached for it, but seeing the frantic look in my eyes asked, "Do you mind?" I hesitated before shaking my head no. He grabbed it delicately and turned it over in his hands, still laughing.

"Why are you laughing at my purse?" I asked quietly, trying not to sound as sad and offended as I felt.

"This is the strangest," he started, put it down in front of me and smiled, "and yet the coolest purse I've ever seen. Did you make it?" he asked me.

I pulled the purse closer to me, and said, "No, there is a woman who goes to a craft fair in Florida where my aunt lives and she makes all sorts of purses like these. Aunt Juli gets me one every year for Christmas but this one is my favorite."

"I like it," Joe added. "Do you think they would make me a wallet with my picture from last October's issue of _Sports Illustrated _on it?" he asked.

I tried hard – you have no idea how very hard – not to roll my eyes. "I'm sure they already have one," I replied instead.

He laughed. "Yeah, cuz I'm Joe Kingman!"

I forced out a laugh and took a sip of the water that the waiter had just brought. He asked us what we would like to eat but neither Joe nor I had glanced at the menu once so he said he would come back.

After deciding that spaghetti and meatballs would have to do, I pulled my pen out of my purse and opened my notepad to the first page I had written a question on. Joe had decided what he was going to eat – probably a ten pound steak – and noticed the front of my notepad. After the publishing of _Niveus, _I was no longer ashamed to carry around random unicorn stuff. So naturally, my notepad had a rearing unicorn in front of a sunset on it.

"Unicorns?" he asked, giving me another skeptical look similar to the one I had received when confessing my non-alcoholism.

"Yes, I love unicorns," I admitted. He probably had no idea that I'd written five books about them.

"Oh yeah, aren't you the one that wrote that series about unicorns when you were like, what twelve?" I was wrong.

"Eleven, actually, and yeah, that's me," I replied, flashing a quick smile which he instantly returned. Either he was naturally a very happy guy or he enjoyed showing off his perfect teeth. I chose to believe the latter option.

"Wow, eleven years old and writing novels, that's… unusual," he muttered. There was that skeptical look again. Ha! He had no idea!

"Speaking of starting at a young age, how old were you when you first started playing football?" I asked him. It was my first question in my notepad.

"On a team or in general?" He asked.

"Both," I replied. It was best to get as much information out of each question as possible, I had only thought of a few questions.

"Well I was five when my dad taught me how to play and eleven when I joined the sixth grade football team at my middle school," Joe replied.

I wrote down the facts as the waiter approached our table. Still scribbling on my notepad, I told him what I wanted without looking up from my work. As I had predicted, Joe ordered a medium-rare steak. Yuck.

As the waiter left I asked him a few more questions and found out that he had attended Boston University (who knew?), won his first football game in ninth grade, scoring the winning touchdown and beating the other team 17 to 10. How did he remember all of these facts? After adding a few more miscellaneous facts about Joe Kingman and his thoughts about the upcoming playoffs, I decided I had enough material to write my article. The salads had come but I'd been so busy writing I'd barely had time to eat.

"So anything else you want to know about me?" he asked. His salad plate was bare. Mine hadn't been touched.

"Do you have any outstanding facts that you would like to share with me?" I asked, and ate a forkful of salad. I still hated the stuff, but I should at least eat a little.

"Well, some people say I sound like Elvis when I sing," he bragged. Whoop-dee-doodle-doo.

"Really?" I said, "Show me."

"Right now?" he asked.

"Yeah," I replied.

He cleared his throat and sang, "_Are you lonesome tonight, do you miss me tonight? Are you sorry we drifted apart? Does your memory stray to a brighter sunny day when I kissed you and called you sweetheart?_" It sounded nothing like Elvis to me. "Well, what do you think?" he asked.

I hesitated, not wanting to be rude. "You sound as much like Elvis as I do Hannah Montana," I replied vaguely.

"Do you sound like Hannah Montana?" he asked.

"Not even close," I laughed and was relieved when he laughed too. However, when he was done laughing, he was still giving me that strange, skeptical look.

"So what about you?" he asked me.

"What about me?" I replied. My salad was as good as finished, and I wasn't hungry for it anymore.

"Well, I don't know, did you play any sports in middle school?" Joe asked.

"I rode my horse, but as for team sports, no, I'm not a big sports fan," I answered.

"How come you're writing the article about me if you're not into sports?" He asked me, I could see the quizzical stare creeping back into his eyes but my logical explanation erased it.

Soon, our food came and we were quiet for the first few minutes while we ate. He attacked that poor steak like he hadn't eaten in months. I tried to be very polite about the way I ate my food and made no mess, surprisingly enough.

"How did you write a book when you were only eleven?" he asked me suddenly, looking up with a piece of meat hanging out of his mouth. I instantly looked down and coughed to stop from barfing.

"I don't know, I'd been trying to write a story since I was in third grade, but that was the first one I finished. I've always had an overactive imagination and a love for writing and fantasy. I love creating my own little world and changing whatever I want until it's just right," I answered, looking up and thankfully finding that the meat was gone from his mouth, and most of it was gone from his plate too. Gross.

"That's really something," he muttered, "so what is your book about?"

I told him the basic summary of the first book and he nodded intently. Yet the whole time, the unbelieving look clouded his face and eventually when I finished he murmured, "Sounds interesting. Where do you get your ideas from?"

"Sometimes I use real life experiences and tweak them so that they fit into the magical world. For instance, the strange dog-horse characters at the end of the book are called the 'Woos' and they are based on my first dog, Baden. I talked to him in a language of my own called the 'Woo Language' which was how the Woos in my book talked. I loved writing them; it preserved Baden and his personality forever," I replied.

"How do they talk? How would you say 'Hey, Joe Kingman'?" Joe asked.

"Evvo Djow Kingmen," I wepwied.

Joe laughed and I did too. It had been a long time since I'd spoken Woo. After the death of poor Badey, who had lived to be seventeen years old, I had given up speaking Woo to my dogs. It reminded me of Badey too much and made me sad.

"So do you think you'll put a character based on me in your next book?" He asked, grinning again. I was about to laugh before I realized he was being serious. He would make a very interesting character – he could be the basis for one of the boys that asks Molly out and she thinks they're too arrogant. Somehow, I don't think that was the kind of character Joe had had in mind.

"If I find a suitable place for you, anything is possible," I answered, trying hard not to gaurentee anything.

"Are there any atheletic people in your book with lightning speed and ridiculous agility?" He asked me and I was sure those were the exact words the man on ESPN Sports Center had used when describing him in the interview I'd watched a week ago.

"Well," I paused trying to think of a response, "there's no one quite like you in it so far." It was true. I try to keep the mean people I don't like out of my fantasy world.

"Is there _anybody_ quite like me out there?" he asked, as if this were a compliment.

"I certainly hope not," I muttered.

"What's that?"

"No one I've ever met," I said.

I continued to eat my spaghetti in silence for a while until he said, "Have you ever been to a Boston Rebels game?"

"No," I answered, uncertain why he was asking this.

"Well today is your lucky day because I just happen to have two tickets with me. One for you and one for a friend." He pulled a pair of tickets out of the pocket in his leather jacket.

_Aw come on! _I thought, _does this guy have any idea what he's doing? He's sentencing me to an afternoon of torture! _"Wow! Thanks, thanks so much," I squealed as I took the tickets. I told mom those few years of acting in high school would pay off.

He grinned and winked at me. How gross. I wanted to run as fast as I could out of the restaurant, away from this egomaniac, and be around normal, humble people.

"So when's the game?" I asked.

"Two Sundays from this Sunday," he answered.

"Sounds like f-fun," I coughed the last word out and forced a smile.

He saw that I was done with my dinner and stood, putting on his jacket. I had forgotten again that he owned the restaurant and didn't have to pay for anything. However, he left a fifty dollar tip on the table. Show off.

I stood up and before I could realize what he was doing, he held my coat out for me and helped me put it on. What was it with this guy and his egotistical mood swings? One minute he's bragging about himself and the next he's helping me put my coat on and holding the door open for me.

"Do you need me to drive you home?" he asked once we had exited the restaurant.

"No, that's all right, I have a car," I replied, not bothering to hide the stiffness in my voice. How poor did he think I was? Just because I couldn't afford to be handing out fifty dollar bills left and right didn't mean I was poor. In fact, I was very successful; I had a brand new black Mustang, payed my rent at my middle-class apartment (which let me assure you wasn't cheap) and I payed to board my horses at a barn a half hour outside of Boston and payed for the gas that took me there and back every other night. Not to mention many other miscellaneous payments. How is that poor?

"Where did you park?" he asked. Why was he so intent on seeing me to my doorstep?

"Just around the corner," I replied.

The wind gushed and I buried my hands into my pocket and ducked my head against the breeze.

"Cold?" he asked.

"I'm fine," I said.

He was walking closer to me than before and it was starting to scare me. I didn't like him in the least and I didn't need his body heat. I could make it to my car just fine without getting frostbite. I tried to walk farther away from him but the sidewalk was only so wide.

As we got to my car, I admit he did seem a bit flabbergasted that I owned a Mustang. I don't understand why he thought he was the only one in the world with money? I pressed the automatic unlock on my keychain and made it to the door before he caught up to me and cornered me with my back against the driver door.

"Hey, I had a nice time tonight," he said quietly. If he was going to try to make a move he was badly mistaken. "Maybe we can do it again sometime."

"Maybe," I said in a perfectly clear, normal tone.

He sighed, gave me that same scrutinizing look I'd seen all night, and opened the car door for me. I eagerly climbed in and put the key in the ignition, using the temperature as an excuse to start the car immediately.

"Good night," Joe said.

"Night," I replied back and smiled. He gave a half smile and closed my door. I buckled my seatbelt and drove off, seeing the skeptical look he still wore in my rearview mirror for the last time that night.

"Strangest dinner ever," I said loudly to myself as I turned my Hannah Montana CD on again. "If we Were a Movie" started playing loudly and I groaned to myself as it started. How true the lyrics were but I did NOT like him in the least. Why did this song have to play right after he was being nice to me? Why not "East Northumberland High"? UGH!

_Uh-oh, there you go again talking cinematic. Yeah you, you're charming, got everybody starstruck, _the CD sang. How incredibly true. Well, not incredibly – he didn't have _me _starstruck. So take that! Big, mean and occasionally really nice, arrogant football player!!

I walked slowly up to my apartment with my head spinning. How did I get stuck with this interview again?

**Author's notes:**

Once again, the character of Joe Kingman is the property of Disney. I do not own any part of him!

I should probably mention references and lyrics taken from songs by Hannah Montana/Miley Cyrus. These songs include "I Got Nerve", "If We Were a Movie" and "East Northumberland High". Once again, I own no part of these songs, the copyrights belong to Hannah Montana, Miley Cyrus, and Disney.

Please review! Tell me what you think, but please be nice!


	3. The Phone Call

Chapter 2: The Phone Call

**Chapter 2: The Phone Call**

After I had gotten home at eleven-thirty Friday night and explained everything that had happened, Lindsey and I both agreed that Joe Kingman sufferred from strange-egotistical-mood-swing-syndrome. Neither she nor I had any idea why one minute he would be completely courteous and interested in my book and the next be suggesting a character based off of him, and then not long after he gave me tickets to his football game, held my coat out for me and walked me to my car. However, as Lindsey pointed out, the important thing was that I had the information I needed to write the column and I would never have to deal with Joe Kingman again.

The editor of the newspaper liked the column a lot more than I thought he would, which, for me, wasn't a very good thing. I didn't want to be good at writing the sports column; if I was, I'd get stuck writing it all the time, and that couldn't happen.

The Monday before the playoff games, I was at my desk when the phone rang. "Hello, _Boston Press_, this is Jenna Bodnar speaking," I answered.

"Hey, Jenna," said a voice from the reciever, "it's Joe Kingman."

I nearly dropped the phone. Before I could think about what I was saying, I whispered frantically, "Why are you calling me?" I tried to duck so that no one could see me on the phone with Joe Kingman, all the while attracting more attention to myself than if I would have just talked to him like a normal person.

"I'm calling to congratulate you," he said.

"For what?" I muttered, standing a thick book up on my desk and ducking inside of it.

"First for writing the article about me last week so well," he replied and paused before saying, "and for earning the job of covering the playoff games!" He made this sound like a good thing.

"What are you talking about?" I growled, my temper rising but my volume remaining the same.

"You get to write an article on the playoff games thanks to me! I talked to your boss and he seemed more than happy to let you cover it since you already have tickets. Congratulations!"

"Joe, if you are trying to be funny, I find nothing humorous about this," I said through clenched teeth. "You don't seriously expect me to not only go to your game but also write about it, do you?"

"Why wouldn't you be able to do that?" he sounded confused and disappointed.

"Gee, I don't know, maybe part of it is that I totally do not understand football!" I snarled, gritting my teeth harder and struggling to maintain my quiet volume.

"You don't?"

"Not at all."

"Well that's no problem, just come over my place tonight and I'll explain it to you," Joe said simply.

"Are you crazy? I can't go over your place – people will get suspicious and then we'll be all over the newspapers. Who knows, maybe I'll have to write one of the articles about it! It seems like every other job that no one else wants gets handed over to me!" I whispered angrily.

"Don't worry about it, it'll only be tonight for a few hours. Nobody but me, you and the doorman have to know anything. Do you want to understand football or not because as far as I can see if you don't figure it out, you could lose your job," Joe replied smoothly.

I paused. He was absolutely right. I didn't know anybody else who could explain it to me and if I butchered this article I could lose my job. "Fine," I growled, "What time should I come over?"

"Do you want me to just pick you up?" he suggested.

_Oh I'm sure you would just _love _to do that, wouldn't you?_ I thought. "I'll drive myself, thanks," I managed to answer through clenched teeth. "I'll need directions."

After we decided that I would come over at seven, and eat dinner at his place, he gave me directions to his apartment building. "I'll see you tonight then," he finally said.

"Bye," I murmured before slamming the phone down on the reciever and burying my head in my arms. I would have liked nothing more than to scream as loud as I could right then, but then I'd get fired for sure so I contained it.

"Miss Bodnar?" I heard my manager's voice call from above me. I gasped and picked my head up. He was looking down at me over top of my book. "What are you doing?" he asked.

I closed the book and put it back in my drawer. "My contact fell out and when I put it back in it burned really badly so I had to close my eyes. I'm sorry, Mr. Mason," I apologized quickly.

"Why did you have the book propped up?" He still looked incredibly confused. Poor innocent Mr. Mason.

"I had to prop the mirror up so I could use two hands when I was putting my contact in," I answered smoothly. Where did I come up with these things?

"Alright, well, I'm just here to inform you that you will be covering the playoff games on Sunday," he said.

_Stop rubbing it in, _I thought. Instead I replied sweetly, "I'm already aware, Mr. Mason. In fact, Mr. Kingman just called to inform me."

"Good, then I'm expecting an article as fabulous as your last," he told me.

"I anticipate giving you nothing less," I answered.

"Excellent, well have a nice evening, I'm taking off," Mr. Mason said and walked away.

Excellent – ha! This was the farhest thing from excellent. How had I gotten stuck with the sports column AGAIN?!

"AAARRRGHHH!!" I shouted at Lindsey, throwing a pillow from the sofa that I'd found on the floor back on the sofa. "I could KILL Joe Kingman!" It was six o'clock, only an hour before I had to attend my football lesson.

"Why, what'd he do now?" Lindsey asked. She seemed amused by my anger at the football player.

"He called the manager of the paper and suggested that _I_ write the article about the game on Sunday!" I snarled.

Lindsey gasped. "He wouldn't!"

"He did."

"Why did the manager agree? I thought they'd found someone else to write the sports column?" she asked.

"He didn't agree until he found out that Joe had given me tickets to the game already and realized he wouldn't have to pay – the lousy, lazy, filthy CHEAPSKATE!" I shouted again as I paced. "And now I have to go over his house tonight so he can explain football to me."

There was a long pause in conversation, the air heavy with tension. "He planned that!" Lindsey whispered suddenly.

"What?" I asked, completely confused.

"I don't know what his reasons are, but at some point during the dinner, he realized that he wanted to see you again so he gave you tickets to the game. It seemed like a friendly, generous gift back then – which is just what he wanted you to think. But really it was a trap and now you have to write about him again, and you have to spend even more time with him, which he also planned because he knows that you know nothing about football, while he explains football to you," she said, her voice growing louder with excitement as she spoke, "Jenna – I think Joe Kingman has a thing for you," she added suddenly, her voice dropping to a mutter.

"Lindsey, you're so dramatic," I mumbled as I fell to the couch and Peanut crawled into my lap. "There is no way that _Joe Kingman_, mister I've-got-women-hanging-all-over-me, could have a thing for me when I only had dinner with him one time and I never flirted with him."

"Didn't you say he looked like he was going to make a move before he said good-night?" She prodded. "Come on Jenna, why is it so hard for you to believe that the guy might like you?"

"Because I showed no signs of interest in him," I answered instantly.

"Do you remember Lance Biggie?" she asked me slyly.

"How could I ever forget Lance?"

"Do you remember why he liked you?" she continued. "_Because_ you_ were the only girl that didn't like _him!"

"So what, that was in middle school," I scoffed.

"_Sooo_ guys like it when pretty girls don't like them. They want what they can't have. Especially Joe Kingman because he can have whatever he wants whenever he wants. He could pick practically any girl in Boston to be his girlfriend and not one would refuse. But _you_ are different. When he tried to make a move, you threw a whole new move at him – rejection!" Lindsey said eagerly.

"Oh my goodness Lindsey, you are way too dramatic."

"I'm not being dramatic, I'm being realistic," she retorted.

I looked at the clock, it was six fifteen. "I need to get ready to go," I mumbled and threw on old blue jeans, and a white cami with a gray V-neck long sleeve shirt over top. I pulled my hair into a ponytail and didn't bother with makeup. If Lindsey was right, there was no point in encouraging Mr. Confidence. I pulled my white coat and old tennis shoes. "I'm leaving Lindsey, stay here with Peanut you know the rules, I'll try to be back by ten or eleven," I called over my shoulder and walked out the door before she could respond. I was in for another exciting night.

_This is absolutely ridiculous. I shouldn't even be here, _I thought as I tapped my foot impatiently, waiting for Joe to open the door to his apartment.

"Hey Jenna," said Joe, all happy and smiley as he opened the door, giving me an insane desire to punch him in the face.

"Joe," I muttered, my arms crossed over my chest. I had to remind myself that I was acting like a third grader and I needed to cut it out now if I wanted to keep my job.

"Come on in." That ridiculous smile never left his face.

I slowly entered his apartment. Wow. I have to admit, idiotic and selfish as he was, he had a beautiful apartment. The living room, which had walls made out of windows, housed three stiff-looking black leather couches that faced a plasma TV hung over a fireplace. His kitchen, with stainless steel cabinents and refrigerator, an island and bar stools, was connected to the living room. I couldn't see the rest of his apartment but I knew the rest of it had to be as lovely as this. I knew immediately that the apartment belonged to Joe because there were pictures of him, and Elvis, everywhere.

"Take your coat off, stay a while, get comfortable," Joe invited as he walked over to the fridge. "Can I get you anything to drink?" he offered.

I took my coat off and threw it over the arm of a leather sofa. "What do you have?" I asked, seating myself on one of the bar stools.

"Water, iced tea and Coke."

"Can you toss me a Coke, please? Don't bother pouring it, I'll drink it straight from the can," I answered.

He took my words literally and tossed me the can. Thankfully, after growing up with a bunch of boys, my instincts kicked in and I caught it. I opened the can and took a sip before saying, "So, where do we get started?"

He sat down next to me with a glass of water and said, "How much do you know about football?"

"I know that a bunch of big men tackle each other and try to get the ball to the end of the field," I replied simply.

He laughed. "There's a little more to it than that." Joe pulled out a pen and a notebook he'd had ready on the counter. He drew a field on the paper and explained to me where the sidelines, goal posts and endzones were. He then illustrated for me an average game of football, using two of his trophies as players from opposite teams. It was actually quite interesting to watch a big mean football player playing with trophies on a piece of notebook paper and more than once I burst out laughing at his demonstrations.

"So," Joe said at the end of his explanation, "now I get to test you and see how well you paid attention."

"Oh boy," I groaned and he laughed.

"Let's use the Rebels and the Broncos for example. So let's say that I get the ball and make it to this endzone over here, scoring a touchdown. How many points do I get?" he asked.

"Six?" I answered tenatively.

"Perfect! And if I kick a field goal, how many points do I get?"

"Three?"

"Great!" Joe seemed overjoyed that he had been able to teach me this much. "You're a quick learner," he added, giving me that quizzical stare again.

"What?" I asked.

"Hmm?" He came out of his trance.

"Why do you always look at me like that?" I asked him.

"Like what?" Oh give me a break he knew exactly how he looked at me. I hate it when people play stupid.

"Nevermind," I mumbled after a second.

"So would you like dinner now or after I quiz you with old football videos?" he asked me, getting up from his chair and putting the notebook away.

"Let's have dinner now, I'm hungry." And I didn't want to think about football for too long – I was afraid it would make me stupid.

Joe's idea of cooking dinner is ordering a pizza, which, when I thought about it, was probably safer than having him cook.

While we waited for the pizza to come, he sat at the bar with me and I asked him, "Why did you call my boss and ask him to make me cover the game?"

He looked uneasy for a second and began, "Well – I – uh…" when the phone rang. How convienent. "Hello?" he answered. "Ah! Tatiana, how are you doing baby?" His face stretched into a broad grin and he walked out of the room laughing.

Hmm, Tatiana – that was an unusual name. I wondered who Tatiana was. From the way he had spoken to her I guessed it was his girlfriend, but Joe was so arrogant that he could have talked like that to any girl that he was 'friends' with. How strange – I was feeling slightly jealous. Why? _Stop it Jenna, stop it, _I thought, _you hate this guy remember, why would you be jealous if he had a girlfriend?_ Well if he had a girlfriend then Lindsey's theory was definitely wrong unless he was a player. Well, that wouldn't surprise me, actually. I'd better not even think about it, I was entering dangerous, rocky, football-player-infested territory. Yuck.

Joe was on the phone in the other room until the pizza came which I thought was very rude since I didn't even want to come here and the least he could do was tell Tiffany or Tilly or whatever her name was that he would call her back later once I was gone. But what if he didn't want her to know I was there? Then I shouldn't be here. I should leave right now. But I didn't want to go. I mean, I _had _to learn about football. Wow, that was getting to be a really bad excuse to want to stay. I'd better knock it off now if I wanted to keep my life normal.

Joe and I took the pizza to the couch where I sat far enough away from Joe that we weren't touching but not so far that he thought I was afraid of catching his football player cooties (which I will not deny being afriad of if asked). He played many different clips of past Rebels games and I found to my surprise that I could actually understand and explain what went on in each.

After we had eaten our pizza, he asked me, "So do you want to play a game now?"

"What are you talking about, crazy boy?" I asked blandly.

"Do you want to play a mock game? Don't worry, I won't tackle you or anything, but it'll help you understand it more," he suggested.

What a creep! First he spends a half an hour on the phone with his girlfriend and leaves me out here alone and then he asks me if I want to play football with him. Sure, he made it seem real innocent, _Don't worry, Jenna, I won't tackle you_. He and I both knew very well that football is a contact sport – the most contactish sport there is!

"I think I'll pass," I muttered and went to take my plate to the sink when he blocked me. "What are you doing?" I asked him.

"The only way you can get the plate to the sink is use what you know about football and score a touchdown with it," he replied. Oh he was a sly one.

"Fine," I answered calmly. I gasped and pointed behind him, "Is that picture of you supposed to be crooked?" I asked in mock shock.

He turned around instantly to find the crooked picture and I hurried past him to put my plate in the sink. "Hey!" he shouted indignantly as I put the plate in the sink. He ran over to me.

"Touchdown," I said teasingly and grinned smugly at him.

"You can't do that!" he protested.

"Why not? You never said I couldn't," I answered.

He stared at me in his strange, confused way again before he started laughing. "That was good," he said, patting my shoulder. "You're not too bad." _Oh gee thanks, that means a lot coming from you Mister Perfect! _I thought but merely smiled teasingly at him.

"Now, if you don't mind, I need to go home, it's getting late," I said and went for my coat. To this day, I cannot tell you how he does it, but he made it to my coat before me and held it out so I could put it on.

And though it was completely unnecessary, he walked me to the door. "Thank you for explaining football to me, it helped a lot. Good luck with the big playoff games," I said and reached for the door but the big meanie blocked me. I was getting extremely frustrated by being blocked everytime I went to get something or go somewhere. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared up at him.

"You should really come over again sometime," he said softly. I had to sing the words to 'I Got Nerve' in my head to keep eye contact.

_Not afraid to stare you down until you blink,_ I thought to myself. I made no response and he said, "Will you?" I struggled to come up with an answer. "Please?"

Ugh – Lindsey was going to kill me. "Sure," I finally answered.

That great big smile came over his face again and I managed to smile back. "Good night, thanks again," I said.

"Night," he replied and let me out of his apartment.

I drove home with strange thoughts whirling around my head. Why was it so difficult for me to hear him on the phone with his girlfriend? Why did I want to come back even though I knew I shouldn't? Why did he insist on seeing me again and again when quite clearly he had a girlfriend? I found that I couldn't come up with logical answers to any of these questions and every time I tried I became more confused so I decided to review the rules of football in my head and made a mental note to write down everything I knew that night so I could remember in the morning.

All night, I had dreams about Joe and his stupid perfect teeth and woke up with a headache. What kind of mess had I gotten myself into?


	4. Josh Nickleson

Chapter 3: Josh Nickleson

**Chapter 3: Josh Nickleson**

That Wednesday, I was calmly working at my desk when a stranger approached the desk. He was tall, had bright green eyes and tossled black hair and instantly reminded me of Gerard Butler, or at least what he looked like at the age of twenty two. "Hey, it's Jenna, right?" he asked me. I'm pretty sure I have a nameplate on my desk and as far as I can remember, it was still there that day.

"Yes, I'm Jenna," I replied.

"Hey, I'm Josh, Josh Nickleson. I'm the new sports journalist," Josh said, extending a hand.

I shook his hand and said, "Hi Josh, congratulations on earning the job. I hope you don't think I'm trying to take your job away from you since I have to cover the playoff games on Sunday. Trust me, I would really rather just let you write it but the circumstances being what they are, I have no choice," I explained.

"No, it's no problem, I heard that Joe Kingman suggested you especially to write the column and, to be quite honest, I don't blame him after the interview with him that you wrote," Josh responded. That was unexpected. How many people knew that Joe had suggested that I write the article?

"To tell you the truth, I have no idea how I wrote that article as well as I did, Josh, but I can definitely tell you for a fact that I did not want to do it and I am not into sports whatsoever," I answered simply.

"Well I think you're a wonderful writer," he smiled. Ooh, he had a crooked smile. It was cute. _Much _nicer than _other_ smiles – other perfect smiles belonging to other perfect people who I shall not name.

"Thank you," I blushed and looked down at my keyboard. I began wonder if he could help me write my article on the playoff games when I remembered that Joe had given me two tickets to the game – one for me and one for a _friend_! He never said I couldn't bring a guy. "How would you like to come with me to the playoff games and help me write the article?" I asked him.

"I would love that," Josh replied, seeming surprised, "but don't you only have one ticket?"

"Nope, Joe gave me two tickets," I answered him, grinning.

"In that case, I'd be more than happy to accompany you to the game," Josh said and smiled his cute, crooked smile. I liked Josh. He was cute. And nice. And not a big, mean, arrogant, stupid, perfect-teethed football player.

"Excellent. So how about you pick me up at my apartment on Sunday around two o'clock? The game starts at three but it would be good to leave early just incase there's traffic," I suggested. I gave him directions to my place and my phone number in case he got lost.

"Thanks for helping me with this," I said at the end and I really was thankful to have a sports expert coming with me and helping me write the article.

"My pleasure," Josh replied and asked me, "would you like to join me for lunch?"

"I'd love to," I answered.

"Cool, when's your lunch break?"

"In a half an hour," I replied.

"Okay, I'll come by in a half an hour and we can go get something to eat," Josh said, "See you then." He smiled again and winked at me. Oooh, that was cute!

"Bye," I managed to murmur, my face turning red. _Well put that in your pipe and smoke it, Joe Kingman_, I thought.

The half hour before lunch seemed to drag on longer than usual and I watched the clock with my foot tapping. Eventually, as the clock made it to my exact lunch time, Josh came up to my desk with that cute crooked smile on his face. "Ready to go?" he asked me.

"Absolutely," I answered, threw my coat on, grabbed my purse and left my desk.

As we were walking out the door of my office, Josh said, "So how long have you been writing for the _Boston Press_?"

"I've been writing for them for almost a year," I answered, "What about you? Have you written for any other papers before you came to Boston?"

"Nope, I applied for jobs in a couple of different newspapers but all of their positions were already filled. So I came here," Josh replied.

"Have you always wanted to be a journalist?" I asked him.

"No, I wanted to be a professional football player, actually, but I never made it on the team in high school or college so I decided to settle for writing about it instead," Josh seemed sad about his atheletic incapabilities.

"Well, at least it's safer this way," I said.

"Yeah I guess."

We didn't say anything for a minute as we walked until he asked me, "Where do you want to eat?"

"I don't care, anywhere is fine with me," I said.

We decided to go to a little Chinese restaurant a block away from the building. As we waited for our food to come, Josh spotted my Harry Potter purse and asked if he could see it. Remembering Joe's scoffing words, I cautiously laid it on the table.

"This is the most awesome purse I've ever seen," Josh smiled. "Did you make it?"

I explained for the millionth time where the purse came from and was happy to see that he liked my purse a lot unlike big mean stupid Joe.

We talked for a long time. I told him how I love horses and writing and he immediately recognized me as the author of the _Niveus _books. He said he had read them and enjoyed each and every one and thought it was fantastic that I could write such books when I was only eleven. He also said that his favorite part of my books was the message that God is stronger than any human, magical and non alike. Apparently, he was a strong Christain and not afraid to express it.

He told me how he loved football and basketball but had never been very good at either. He also said that he loved reading, especially Harry Potter and my books and that he was in two reading clubs and the choir when he was in high school. He enjoyed going to movies or plays depending on which one and loved staying out late at night. He was my type of guy.

The nicest thing was, every time I told him something about myself that was slightly unusual, he wouldn't stare at me like I was from another planet, but thought it fantastic that I had a personality and wasn't afraid to express it.

By the end of lunch, I really liked Josh, not just because he was cute but because he was a normal, humble person with a normal, humble life and he could carry on a conversation with other normal people and not think of himself as being the best of the best.

I told Lindsey about Josh when I got home and she seemed absolutely overjoyed that I had found someone that I liked so much better than stupid Joe Kingman.

However, when I fell asleep that night, thoughts of Joe creeped back into my head. I didn't think about how arrogant and self-centered he was but about the times when he was incredibly sweet, and held my coat out for me and walked me to the door unnecessarily. I fell asleep, not picturing Josh's face, no why would I do that? That would be normal. I fell asleep with the picture of Joe Kingman flashing his perfect smile at me and the picture of Joe Kingman asking me to come see him again, and the picture of Joe Kingman giving me that strange I-don't-understand-you-look. And for some reason, I fell asleep with a smile on my face.


	5. The Playoffs

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**Chapter 4: The Playoffs**

I figured if I was going to go to a Boston Rebels playoff game, I should support my team, so Saturday I ran out and bought a Boston shirt. Sunday, I put a white turtleneck under my new Boston shirt, pulled on a pair of blue jeans, fuzzy socks and braided my hair into two braids. I thought I looked cute enough for a football game. At two o'clock, my doorbell rang; I knew it was Josh.

"Josh! Hey, how are you!" I greeted him, broadly grinning.

"Hey Jenna," Josh smiled. He also had on a Boston Rebels shirt. We matched – how cute! "You look really pretty."

I blushed. "Thanks, Josh," I said, staring at my feet. "Ready to go?" I asked.

"After you," he said, letting me out of my apartment. I locked the door and walked downstairs with him, slipping my hand into his as we walked. We talked aimlessly until we got to his car, where he held the passenger door of his dark green Jeep open for me, and then for another half hour until we made it through the traffic to the game.

We bought soda and popcorn and looked at the tickets to find our seats. Josh read the tickets and we walked past different signs until we found the section we were supposed to be in, and then looked for the numbers. Josh found, with great joy, that our seats were first row seats right by Boston's endzone. "Wow, this is so much better than watching the game on TV," Josh said, "thanks again for inviting me."

"As long as you can tell me statistics to write in the article at the end of the game, don't sweat it," I replied.

The game started not long afterwards and as Boston's team jogged onto the field, I saw Joe looking for me. I grinned smugly, waiting for the look on his face when he saw that I'd brought Josh. When he looked over, I held Josh's hand, leaned into his shoulder, waved and smiled at Joe. For a minute, a wave of shock and anger came over Joe's face and he stopped in the middle of running around the field. I continued to wave and smile.

"What's Joe Kingman doing?" Josh asked. Poor clueless Josh. I looked at Josh and laughed. "What?" He seemed confused.

"You have popcorn butter on your face," I laughed. I wiped it off with the end of my sleeve and looked up to see if Joe was still watching. He was and he seemed angry. I waved again, still smiling. His eyebrows narrowed and he continued around the field.

"What was up with him?" Josh muttered.

"I don't know, maybe he's just having a bad day," I shrugged.

I had a great time with Josh the rest of the game, spending half of the game laughing and the other half cheering for Boston, one thing I never would've imagined myself doing. Around half time, I was freezing cold and shivering. "Aw schnitzel, I forgot to bring my jacket!" I said angrily.

"Here," Josh said and gave me his coat.

"Are you sure you won't be cold?" I asked, taking his thick, heavy Boston jacket.

"I'll be fine," Josh smiled his cute crooked smile and I couldn't help but smile back. I pulled his coat on, which was ten sizes too big for me and wrapped it around me. It was warm with Josh heat.

Josh put his arm around me and I sat closer to him, watching Joe the entire time. Why was I so caught up with making sure he saw me and Josh together? Shouldn't I just let it go, and be happy with Josh, and not worry about stupid Joe? Poor Josh, I felt like I was taking advantage of him, and he had no idea. He just came to enjoy the game with me and here I was trying to make Joe jealous! How rude of me! I mentally slapped myself and thought, _Jenna, you better pull yourself together! Get your stupid hormones in line and tell them to quiet down NOW! Forget about stupid handsome Joe and his stupid perfect teeth and that stupid jealous glare he's been giving you all night and just have a nice time with Josh or you will regret it! _That seemed to help a bit and the game went a lot faster.

By the end of the night, when Josh was walking me to my apartment, I didn't have any room left for stupid Joe in my head. Boston had won and they were going to the championships. Woo-hoo. As far as the Rebels were concerned, all I cared about was the article I had to write about the game. Josh had told me he would write notes down for me to include in my article and all I had to do was sum them all up. When we got back to the door of my apartment, I turned to Josh and said, "Thank you for a very fun time."

"I had an excellent time. Thank you for inviting me," he replied and smiled. Cute crooked smile!

"Like I said before, give me those notes tomorrow and it is not a problem," I answered.

"I will," Josh said. He looked like he was going to try something so I quickly hugged him.

"Good night," I said, walked into my apartment and closed the door in his face. I hate it when guys try to make twenty moves in one night. He'd witnessed enough tolerance from me for one night.

Peanut ran to the door to greet me. "Hey sweetie," I said in my deep, loving doggy voice as I hugged him and he covered me with slobbery kisses. "I love you too," I laughed and kissed his head. Sometimes, dogs were much easier to deal with than humans.

Joe's jealous glares haunted my dreams for the next few nights and everytime someone mentioned the game, it appeared in my head. I tried not to think about him too much but when you are assigned to write an article all about his team, avoidance is impossible.

Josh came over to my place Monday night to help me write the article. We sat at the kitchen table and I typed most of it from my own head, he just told me what to include. I read him the article a few times and he told me what to improve. Sometimes I didn't agree with him entirely. The third touchdown in the game I remember being made by Joe Kingman but he insisted that it was Sanders who scored the touchdown. Come to think of it, I can't remember him mentioning Joe at all in the article. I became paranoid, wondering if he had seen me watching Joe. But how could he know I was trying to make Joe jealous? After all, Joe did play for the Rebels and I had a reason to be watching the game, and Joe.

I tried not to get too annoyed but Josh continued to make move after move on me. Eventually, by the end of the night, I said to him, "Josh, either stop making the moves or please leave. I can't stand having to watch your every movement and remember to keep my space. Do you think you can handle that?"

"Sorry," he mumbled and the next minute was wrapping his arm around my waist.

"Darn it Josh!" I shouted and tore his arm off of me. "Get out of here!"

"I'm sorry, I'll stop, can I please stay?" Josh looked at me pitifully. Unfortunately for Josh, I'm Voldemort so I have no sympathy and the pitiful look doesn't work on me.

"No you can't, you've overstayed your welcome. Please leave, the door is that way," I said and pointed towards the door.

"Jenna, come on," Josh said and started to creep up next to me but I elbowed him in the stomach.

"GET OUT!!" I shouted. Peanut, my loyal Peanut, stood up from underneath the table, faced Josh and growled. He bared his teeth. Josh remained motionless. How stupid was this guy? Peanut could rip him apart! "If you don't leave in five seconds, I'm letting my dog tear as much of you apart as he wants, which, at the moment, looks like a lot," I growled under my breath. "Five, four, three…" Josh slowly started walking to the door. Peanut turned his head as Josh walked by and his growl grew louder with each number I counted. "Two," I said warningly. I almost wanted to let Peanut attack him just to see the look on his face.

Josh hurried to the door as I said one and Peanut bounded after him, his teeth finding Josh's pants and ripping a piece of fabric off as he scurried from my room. I love Peanut.

My faithful defender trotted up to me with the piece of fabric in his mouth. He laid it down at my feet and stared up at me as if to say, "See how nice I am? I ripped that mean boy's pants! I deserve a treat."

"You definitely do deserve a treat," I told him, ruffled his ears and fed him the rest of a piece of meatloaf I'd made the other night. "I love you Peanut, you're the best dog ever," I said into his fur as I hugged him. Dogs are definitely better than guys.

I found myself thinking about Joe again, that seemed to happen a lot when Josh was around. He had never tried to make a move on me. He had _looked _like he was going to but he never did. If nothing else, he was incredibly polite to me. And he had perfect teeth. Stupid perfect teeth, remember Jenna? You hate them. Stupid. Perfect. Yuck.

If only I could say that and mean it.


	6. Explanations

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**Chapter 5: Explanataions**

"Hello?"

"I HATE BOYS!!" I shouted at Lindsey over the cell phone while I walked down the crowded Boston street to Panera for my lunch break.

I heard laughter on the other end of the phone. "What's up now, Jenna?" she asked, still laughing.

"Well, it's a long story," I said as I entered Panera. "I'd rather just tell you in person. When's your lunch break?"

"I just got back from lunch, sorry," Lindsey replied.

"Hold on one second," I told her and ordered a bowl of chicken soup for lunch – it was a perfect soup day; cold and rainy.

"What are you doing tonight?" I asked Lindsey.

"Mom and Dad are coming in to visit me," she reminded me. Woops, I'd forgotten.

"Oh that's right!" I said, slapping myself in the forehead, "Do you have time to talk?" I asked her.

"Must you tell me at this very minute? Can't it wait a night or two?" she asked me.

"I have to tell someone! I'm going crazy," I tried to lower my voice since I was in a public place and making a fool of myself.

"Fine, well, I'll pretend like I'm talking to a client while I work so if I ask you random questions like 'How long have you been suscribed to Brio?' my boss is walking past my desk or someone is paying attention to what I'm saying, okay?" Lindsey replied.

"Sure, hold on a second," I said as my name was called. I grabbed my food and found a booth in the back corner of the restaurant where, a few tables up, a lone black man sat, and I doubted he would eavesdrop on my pitiful girly conversation. "Okay, are you ready?"

"I guess so," Lindsey mumbled.

"Well, Sunday night I was at the playoff games with Josh," I started, "and Joe saw me with him and boy did he look angry."

"I told you," Lindsey muttered.

"I know. Anyway, Josh was really sweet the whole game and let me wear his jacket and everything and it was really nice. But then when I was going into my apartment, he sort of looked like he was going to try something so I was like, 'Kay, bye,' and I slammed the door in his face," I continued.

Lindsey broke into laughter. "Typical," she snorted.

"I know. So _Monday _night, he comes over to help me write the article, right? Well every five minutes he's trying to make moves on me! So finally, I just said, 'Josh either control yourself or get the heck out of here!'" I said.

"Did you really say that?" Lindsey asked, sounding excited.

"In a nicer way. Well he's all, 'Sorry', but then he just kept doing it so I was like 'Get the freak out of my house right now or I'll let the dog tear you up!' Well Peanut jumps up and he starts growling and baring his teeth and whatnot and Josh, being the doof that he is, just stands there. So I go, 'If you aren't out of here in five seconds, I'm not going to restrict the dog.' Josh starts going and he was so pressing his luck, walking real slow and everything. So by the time I got to one, I let Peanut go after him and he took off a shred of his pants," I said a little quieter, restraining my laughter.

Lindsey had a hard time controlling her own.

"I'm not going to say where Josh's pants got a hole, but all I'm saying is Peanut had to jump to bite and Josh is going to be feeling some air in his seat," I said vaguely as I laughed.

This made Lindsey lose it. She loves violence. Of course, Lindsey's laughter encouraged my own and by the time we had stopped laughing, we couldn't breathe and I had tears in my eyes.

"So what happened when you saw him at work today?" Lindsey asked me, still a little breathless.

"Well, now there's a story for you," I started when the black man I'd seen sitting by himself approached me.

"Excuse me, Miss Bodnar?" he asked.

"Hold on Linds," I muttered. "You look somewhat familiar, do I know you?" I asked the man.

"I'm Travis Sanders," the man said and held out his hand for me to shake, "I play for the Rebels."

"Linds, I'll call you right back," I said quietly to my phone and, without waiting for Lindsey's response, closed it. "Hi, Mr. Sanders," I replied and shook his hand.

"Do you mind if I ask you something?" he asked.

"If it's about the article, I'm sorry, I tried my best but the person helping me was a bit stupid to put it nicely," I started but he stopped me.

"It's not about the article," he said and sat down across from me.

"Really? Then ask away." I tried not to sound as confused as I was. Why would a football player have any reason to talk to me other than football?

"It's about Joe, you know, Joe Kingman," Mr. Sanders said. I tried not to roll my eyes.

"Yes, what about him?" I asked.

"Well, I think there was a bit of a misunderstanding between you and a Josh Nickleson," Sanders said.

"How do you know about Josh?" I inquired suspiciously. What, had the Rebels start stalking me all of a sudden?

"It's a long story but I'll try to make it short," Sanders started, "Josh and Joe both went to the same high school. When Joe tried out for the football team, so did Josh. As you know, Joe made it but Josh didn't. They stayed friends but Josh has been jealous of Joe's physical abilities and overall success since ninth grade."

Well, that was unexpected.

"Josh went into journalism at Boston University and Joe majored in sports. Of course, though Josh had to work harder to earn his salary, Joe has a larger income and, as you know, is quite famous. Well, the night after you interviewed Joe, he had a few guys from the team, Josh and a couple other friends over. At one point, we asked him how the interview went and he started telling us about you. One thing you should know about Joe is, he usually has no problem getting girls to like him. He was confused by the way you weren't interested in him, confused to the point where he was incredibly distracted even at football practice," Sanders continued.

So Lindsey had been right after all. Hmm… curious.

"Well, the day after Joe told us about you, Josh applied for a job at the _Boston Press_. As you know, he got it, but not after Joe had told us about the time he had to explain football to you. Something about you confuses him. I've never seen him so distracted. At the strangest times, he'll just stop what he's saying, look off into space and get this confused look on his face. None of us know what to do with him," said Sanders.

That was also unexpected. I didn't know Joe thought about me as much, if not more than I thought about him. As Alice in Wonderland would say, curiouser and curiouser!

"But, when Joe saw you and Josh sitting together at the game and laughing, well, we're lucky we won the game. He has been in a strange mood ever since. He barely talks to us about you anymore, afraid that another one of his friends will move in on you even though he's told us what he thinks of you. And then, when he used to just get a confused look on his face when he got distracted, well now he is either confused or incredibly sad or a mixture of both. He hasn't had us over since the game a week ago and usually he has us over every other day. He hasn't even called us – who knows what he's doing in that big fancy apartment of his!" Sanders continued, shaking his head in disbelief. I felt like shaking my head too. This couldn't be true. Not Joe Kingman. This had to be a different Joe Kingman.

"So you're trying to tell me that Joe Kingman has gone into a state of semi-depression because I went to the football game with his jealous high school friend?" I said slowly.

"Basically, yes," Sanders replied.

"Well he doesn't have to worry about Josh anymore, I really don't like him," I began, and then realized what I was saying. It was just so strange. "This is so _weird_!" I murmured, more to myself than anyone else.

"What do you mean?" Sanders asked, sounding as confused as I felt.

"_Joe Kingman _in a state of semi-depression because he can't get ONE girl to like him. Not just that he can't get one girl to like him, he can't get _me _to like him. Why would Joe want me to like him? I thought he had a girlfriend – Tanya or Tracey or something," I admitted.

"Tatiana," Sanders told me.

"Yeah, that. How come he's so – so _obsessed_, if you will, because of _me_? I'm not incredibly beautiful, I never showed any signs of liking him. I should be like a normal, average girl to him. Just a nerdy little journalist with standards so high she can't find a boyfriend perfect enough to fit," I was so confused my brain was starting to hurt.

"But that's just it – you _aren't _just an average girl to him. An average girl would be drooling all over him, want to see him, would flirt with him, and you didn't. You showed no interest in him which was new to him. You don't want to see him, you didn't flirt with him – it's all new to Joe. He's as confused by that as you are by him being confused about you," Sanders explained.

"Let me get one thing straight – does Joe like me or not?" I asked him. I had to know.

"I wouldn't say he _likes _you necessarily, as much as he's intrigued by you. It's like eating a chocolate that isn't sweet or going to an ocean without waves, you don't like them as much as you like normal chocolate or oceans, but you're intrigued by them, you want to know why they are the way they are," Sanders replied.

"But why doesn't he just accept it and move on?" I asked. It was so incredibly strange to think that _I _– me, nerdy, weird Jenna Bodnar – I kept Joe Kingman up at night. _I _affected his football playing. _I _intrigued him. SO WEIRD!!

"You keep throwing new moves at him. Like when he explained football to you. Most girls would complain about the job, say they knew nothing about sports, and worm their way out of it. But you worked to understand and write the article well. Anytime you do something out of the oridanry, you confuse him even more," Sanders said.

I still didn't understand why Joe would be so interested in me.

"Can I ask you a question now?" he asked me.

"Uh-huh," I muttered, biting my nail and staring at the wall, shaking my head. _So weird_.

"How come you went out with Josh but dumped him less than a week later?"

That was an unexpected question.

"He turned out to be different than what I thought he was," I answered after a hesitation.

"What do you mean? What did you think he was like?" Sanders asked.

"He told me he loved my books and basically everything I love and that he was a Christain, but he sure didn't act like a Christain," I said vaguely.

"Wait till Joe hears this one," Sanders muttered under his breath after a pause.

"What?" I asked.

"Josh hasn't picked up a book since college, let alone a book about unicorns. He hasn't gone to church since he was in first grade. He said those things to get you to like him so that you would take him to the game with you and for once Joe would be jealous of him," Sanders explained.

"Are you serious?" I growled. Sanders nodded slowly.

"Oh when I get my hands on that little weasel," I muttered under my breath.

"You're gonna have to wait in line. Joe is going to flip out when he hears this one." Sanders shook his head.

"Well, thank you very much for telling me this, but I have to go. My lunch break is about over," I said, tapping my watch.

"Thank you for talking to me and being so honest. It was really a big help," Sanders replied.

I shook his hand. "Tell Joe I said not to get so worked up over me, it'll affect his career. Then I won't be the onlygirl who doesn't want to go out with him," I said and we laughed.

"I'll tell him. You have a nice day," Sanders said.

"You too, bye," I said and hurried out of Panera, furious and confused at the same time. I had a lot of thinking to do and quite a bit of talking, too.

"We need to talk," I said as I approached Josh's desk back at work.

"Start talking," Josh replied without looking up from his computer.

"Now is neither the time nor the place. You will meet me for coffee after work at the coffee shop on the corner. Five o'clock sharp. Be there," I growled and walked away.

At five o'clock (sharp) I waited at a table with a cup of coffee in my hands for Josh to come. If he was even a minute late, I was going to tell him (and not in a nice way). I checked my watch as the seconds ticked by. He had thirty seconds and I was going to rip his head off up one side, down the other and back up again.

Sadly, ten seconds before 5:01 Josh strutted – not walked, strutted – through the door of the coffee shop. "So, what's up?" he asked me casually, sitting down across from me.

"What's up?" I growled, "I'll tell you what's up. You _used _me to make Joe jealous just because you couldn't make the stupid football team in high school. You lied to me to get me to like you so that Joe would be even more jealous. That's what's up. Let me tell you something, Josh, I _despise _being used and lied to. I have had way too many experiences with such and I have absolutely no tolerance for it. You're lucky we are in a public place because I could seriously hurt you right now, I am so angry. It would be incredibly wise of you to talk to me for work related purposes ONLY and emergencies at that. If you try to make small talk or become all 'buddy-buddy' again, I can guarantee that you will never be able to have children. Have a nice day," I snapped, and walked out the door of the coffee shop with my coffee still warm in my hands.

When I got back home, I decided to call Lindsey; her parents weren't supposed to arrive until later this evening. "Lindsey, I'm confused," I moaned, flopping onto the couch as she answered the phone.

"What about?" she asked.

I explained to her what Mr. Sanders had told me about Josh using me and Joe being so distracted. She agreed that Josh was a complete and total idiot and cheered when she heard that I had told him off. As for Joe, well, she was just as confused as I was. "I don't get it, either. Can't he just accept that you're abnormal and move on? I mean, everybody else has," she sad.

"I know, I don't understand it either. But one thing Sanders said made me wonder if he's really just confused or if there's more to it than confusion. He said that Joe doesn't talk about me anymore because he's afraid that another one of his friends will try to make a move on me 'after he's told them what he thinks of me'. What does _that_ mean? What do you think he told them about what he thinks of me?" I asked her.

"Jenna, _wake up_!" Lindsey shouted over the phone, "The guy likes you! Is it not completely obvious now? Of course he isn't just confused, if he was only confused why would he be jealous of you and Josh? If he was only confused, why would he be so distracted by you that he can't even concentrate on football when not even a month ago he announced to the world that football is his life? Trust me Jenna – you're not _that _confusing!" Lindsey exclaimed. She had a point.

"But _why_? Why does he like me?" I begged her for a logical explanation to my confusion.

"I already told you the first reason. Guys like Joe want what they can't have. I'm not going over it again, you already understand the concept. The second reason is, I thought, more obvious. Jenna, has it ever occurred to you that you are extremely attractive?" she asked me. She wasn't being gay, she was just being an honest friend.

"Oh come on, I'm not _that _pretty," I mumbled. At least, I didn't think I was compared to the other girls that hung around Joe. I'm not saying I thought I was ugly, just not as pretty as the other girls. The ones that liked Joe. The ones he should like in return. "What about Tatiana? He seemed pretty happy with her when I was over. If he liked me so much, don't you think he would have told her that he'd call her back?" I said.

"First of all, didn't you say he didn't want to answer that one question you asked him before she called? He was avoiding the question that you asked him – the 'why did you want me to write this column' question. He would've given himself away if he just came right out and told you the truth. Second of all, he could have been trying to make you jealous, and I have to admit, I think it worked pretty well," Lindsey added teasingly.

"Lindsey, shut up," I groaned, and my face turned red. I was glad she couldn't see because then she'd be even more convinced that I liked Joe. Which I didn't. He was stupid and arrogant and handsome and perfect-teethed. Ew. Yuck. Football. Gross.

"Well think about what I said. I need to go pick my parents up from the airport," Lindsey said.

"Alright, tell your mom and dad I said hi. I'll try to come over and see them before they leave," I replied, "Can you try to call me back later tonight? I don't care how late it is, just call," I asked her.

"I'll try," Lindsey answered, "See you later."

"Bye," I muttered and hung up. Peanut came over to me and put his head in my lap. I ruffled his ears. "What do you think, bud? Do you think Joe likes me?" I asked the dog. It's pretty pathetic when you have to resort to taking boy advice from a dog.

He looked at me with those big brown eyes and an expression that said, "I don't know who Joe is and I don't know why you care if he likes you or not. _I _love you."

I kissed his head. "I love you too boy, no matter what happens," I told him. I've found that the only male being a girl can rely on to love her unconditionally all the time is her dog (God excluded, of course).

Did Joe really like me? Why was I so confused by that? Why couldn't I just do what Lindsey did – accept it and move on? It seemed too good to be true, I didn't want to get my hopes up and have them crushed. I was safer this way.

So let's just say Joe _did _like me. Then what? Did I like him? I don't know. I wish I could have someone go in my head, fish through the mess of emotions in there and pull out the one I really felt about Joe and show it to me. Well, why would I like him? That was a good place to start. What did I like about him? He was very handsome with awesomely perfect teeth – obviously. But outside of that, I also really liked the times when he would do super sweet things like hold my coat out for me to put on. Or walk me to my car, offer me a ride home, walk me unnecessarily to the door. Simple things like this made me hope that Lindsey was right.

Well what did I not like about him? I decided that if the goods outweighed the bads I had reason to like him. The bads… well he was very arrogant and self-centered. He loved talking about himself. He thought he was amazing. He thought he was basically the best thing that walked the earth. He didn't care about other people. Or did he? He obviously cared enough about me to be distracted during football practice. He had no life outside of football – there was another bad thing.

Hmm, maybe I should tally these things down. I got out a sheet of paper, and wrote 'Good Joe' on one side and 'Bad Joe' on the other. Okay, starting with the first night, I decided to count the bad and good experiences. One, opened door of restaurant for me. One point for Good Joe. Two, he called me Jenna without my permission. One point for Bad Joe. Three, he helped me take my coat off. Two points for Good Joe. Four, he offered to order wine. Was that good or bad? Was he being thoughtful or trying to make a move? I decided he was just being thoughtful and added another tally to Good Joe. Oh wait, I'd forgotten one! Five, he held my chair out for me. Four points for Good Joe. Six, he LAUGHED at my Harry Potter purse. Two more points for Bad Joe. That one was serious. The score was three to four with Good Joe in the lead. Seven, he suggested a wallet made of his picture. Another point for Bad Joe. They were tied. Eight, he was interested in the fact that I wrote books at age eleven. Five points for Good Joe. Nine, he thought he sang like Elvis. Five points for Bad Joe. It was tied again, five to five. However, ten, he asked me some questions about myself. Two points for Good Joe, bring the score up seven to five, with Good Joe in the lead. Eleven, he suggested a character based on him. Two points for Bad Joe. Twelve, he bragged about his speed and agility, quoting from his interview on ESPN. Two more points for Bad Joe. Bad Joe was winning, nine to seven. Thirteen, he gave me tickets to the Rebels game. Three points for Bad Joe. That was very VERY mean. Fourteen, he helped me put my jacket on. The score was twelve to eight with Bad Joe winning. Fifteen, he held the door open for me on the way out of the restaurant. Twelve to nine. Sixteen, offered to drive me home. Seventeen, walked me to my car. Twelve to eleven. Eighteen, asked if I was cold, which, by extension, was asking 'do you want my coat?' Twelve to twelve. Nineteen, he opened my car door for me. Thirteen to twelve, Good Joe had won the first night.

Next, was the night he explained football to me. I decided to start a new page and add the tallys together at the end. First of all, he made me write the article. Five points for Bad Joe. Two, got me a drink. Five to one. Three, took a long time to explain to me how football worked. That was nice. Two points for Good Joe. Four, talked on the phone with Tatiana for a half hour while I was in his living room. Two points for Bad Joe. Seven to three with Bad Joe in the lead. Five, helped me understand football even more, one and a half points for Good Joe. Six, asked me to play football with him. Eight to four and a half, Bad Joe still leading. Seven, held my coat out for me _again_. Eight to five and a half. Eight, walked me to the door unnecessarily. That was a big one – two and a half points. Eight to eight. Nine, made me promise to come back, one point for Bad Joe. This time, Bad Joe won, nine to eight.

I added the scores together. Twenty-one for Good Joe and twenty-one for Bad Joe. Great. Even math couldn't decide if it liked Joe or not.

Just then, the phone rang. I sighed as I answered it. "Yeah?" I mumbled, staring off into space.

"Hey Jenna, it's Joe," I heard.

For the second time, I nearly dropped the phone when I realized Joe was calling me. Holy schnitzel was the guy psychic or something? "Hey Joe," I tried to answer calmly.

"What are you doing for the rest of the night?" Joe asked me.

Uh-oh. Where was he going with this? "Absolutely nothing," I answered, sounding bored and angry with myself for being bored.

"Would you go to dinner with me?" he blurted out.

Once again, the phone slipped from my fingers and my jaw dropped. Aw man, Lindsey was right. Joe did like me. I thought about what I was having for dinner, debating on whether or not it was worth it to risk going to dinner with Joe or not. Hmm… dinner normally would have been pizza rolls or Ramen noodles – yummy. Ah, what the heck, I might as well go.

I picked the phone up off of the couch. "Sure," I said, trying not to sound too enthusiastic or pessimistic.

"Awesome, can we go to my restaurant again?" he suggested.

"Why not?" I agreed.

"Well, let's go now, I'm starving," Joe said.

"Okay," I replied and remembered my car was at the mechanic getting its inspection. "Wait Joe," I stopped him before he could hang up, "could you give me a ride? My car's at the mechanic getting its inspection," I explained.

There was a brief pause in which I don't want to know what happened on the other end of the phone, but when Joe replied, he sounded like he was smiling. "No problem. Just give me directions to your place," he said.

I did and told him I'd be waiting at the door. I'd rather not have Mr. Football in my apartment.

"Great, I'll be over in five minutes," Joe sounded eager to see me. This was going to be interesting.

I got up and went to the bathroom, and as I washed my hands, I looked over what I was wearing. A gray hoody that said 'Barn Bums' with a little white horse shoe embroidered on it and matching gray sweatpants. My hair was pulled into a messy ponytail. Ooh, I was cute (sarcasm). I traded my sweatpants for old jeans and brushed my hair, leaving it down. Once again, lip infusion is my friend.

I grabbed my Harry Potter purse off of the counter and put my shoes on. I decided to take my chances with Joe's insults towards my purse. He wasn't about to change who I am, and I am known for having that purse. I realized that it is quite difficult to wear a hoody and a winter jacket when I attempted to put my coat on overtop of the hoody, so I settled for just the hoody. There was not going to be any long period of time in which I would be exposed to the weather. I hurried downstairs, not wanting to attract any unwanted attention to Joe picking me up.

I had only to wait a few seconds after I made it to the door before I saw Joe drive up and struggled to not roll my eyes. He had a fancy schmancy silver car, I have no idea what kind of car because I don't obsess over cars, but I know it had to cost over 100,000. Once again, I found myself thinking, _this is going to be interesting_.

Joe stepped out of the car with that huge grin on his face. "Hey, how are you?" he asked me. Hmm… seeing him tonight made me wonder if Sanders had been lying about Joe going into a state of depression and getting distracted and blah blah blah. Then I remembered why he was going into the blah blah blah. Me. Der der der, Jenna.

I walked up to the car as I answered. "Superfluous, how are you?" I replied.

"Fantastic," he said and opened the passenger door for me. I slid in and he closed the door, whistling as he nearly skipped to the driver's side. I let out a deep sigh and slid farther down into the seat.

He closed the door and smiled over at me again. I smiled back, though not nearly as convincingly as I had hoped. "Thanks for coming with me," Joe said as he started the car.

"No problem," I lied. It was going to be a big problem. Either I would end up not wanting to ever see him again or I would end up wanting to see him every day. There was no way I could come out of dinner tonight and not have strong feelings for Joe, one way or the other. Well, on the bright side, maybe this would help the tally sheet back at home. Maybe I'd be able to figure out whether or not I liked Joe tonight.

Joe drove, shall we say, aggressively. He seemed to have no eyes for stop signs or speed limits and red lights only just made him stop. I found myself wondering how Joe had passed his driver's test. I suppose he must have become more like _this_ over the years as he also became more popular.

"Nice car," I commented, running my hand along the edge of the leather seat.

"Thanks," he said and grinned broadly at me. "So," he cleared his throat, "Have you been up to anything interesting lately?"

"Not really, you know, same old same old," I answered and shrugged.

I suppose he must've noticed my hoodie because he asked me, "Do you have a horse?"

"Yeah, I have two actually," I replied.

"Where do you keep them?" he continued.

"There's a little barn outside of town, about an hour away. I try to ride them every other day. I was supposed to ride today and I couldn't because of my car," I said.

"What are their names?"

"Sadie and Niveus."

"Like your books, Niveus?" he asked.

"How did you remember that?" I smiled at him, this time with actual joy.

"I don't know, I just remember seeing your book in the display case at the bookstore," he shrugged and grinned back.

"You've been researching me, haven't you?" I said slyly, still grinning.

He looked over at me, his face a mixture of shock and suppressed, embarrassed joy. "Pfft, no, I haven't been _researching you_," he brushed me off unconvincingly. I giggled. "Well I might have looked at your official website once or twice, but, you know," he added.

I laughed. "You _have _been researching me," I said and though he protested, I smiled smugly to myself and said, "Alright, sure, sure," as he tried to come up with an explanation.

We had made it to the restaurant and found a parking space. I was just unbuckling my seatbelt after he stopped the car and reaching for my purse when he opened my door for me. I tried not to look as surprised as I was. How could he get out of the car and to the other side of it so quickly to open my door for me? He held his hand out to help me out of the car and I took it without thinking and let him help me up. Joe nearly lifted me off of the ground as he pulled me up, he was strong.

"Thanks," I grinned up at him and let go of his hand. I had an insane desire to hug him and not let go, which I quickly shook off. What was wrong with me? I had to calm down.

We walked to the door which, naturally, he held open for me. This was what I loved about being around Joe – he held doors open and helped me up – it's really pretty sad when you think about it that I would like a guy, even though he's arrogant and self-centered, just because he holds doors open for me. Like I said – sad.

We were quickly seated, another great feature of going to Joe's restaurant with Joe. Once again, he held my chair out for me when I went to sit down. As he sat down across from me and grinned, I couldn't help but smile back. "Thank you for inviting me," I said quietly, surprised the words were even coming out of my mouth. What was I saying? I shouldn't be thanking him for this, this was going to affect the next few months of my life, if not more! And who knows if it would be in a positive way or not?

"Thanks for coming," Joe responded, seeming as flustered by my words as I was.

The waiter came and we ordered our drinks quickly. As the waiter walked away, I thought I'd ask Joe what I'd been wanting to ask him all day.

"So I hear you've been kind of distracted lately," I began, trying not to make my point too obvious, for fear he wouldn't answer my questions. Maybe if I tried an indirect approach, he would subconsciously answer them.

"Mmm," Joe grunted. That could have been a yes or no, or maybe it was just a 'so what?'

"I thought you said football is your life… what would make you change your mind?" I asked him – clever, eh?

Joe looked down at the table. He seemed to be thinking, of what I couldn't imagine, perhaps a way to avoid the question.

"Joe, please don't tell me it's because you saw me with Josh at the football game," I said and he lifted his head up. "I really, honestly don't like Josh, I'm beginning to loathe him, it's not really very healthy. I mean after I found out he only asked me to make you jealous, oh you should have heard how I ripped his head off, I was so angry I felt like punching him right in the nose, but then of course I'd get fired, and I like my job so very much so I controlled myself but I tell you if he comes anywhere near me outside of work, he is just asking for it, and man am I gonna pound him! But that's not good – God wouldn't want me to do that. He would want me to forgive and forget. But it's hard! I can't stand that boy, to think he would lay all the moves on me just to make you jealous it's absolutely infuriating and I can't believe he would think of doing such a thing, which of course makes me even angrier at him and that is also not good. You know what they say 'Beloved, let us love one another for love is of God and everyone who loveth is born of God and knoweth God and he who loveth not knoweth not God for God is love,' which is found in first John verses seven and eight," I ranted, gasping at the end of my rave. I looked up at Joe whose eyes had gone wide as he had watched me ramble on at top talking speed, my mouth moving a mile a minute. "I'm sorry, that was completely off topic," I apologized.

"How do you remember that verse so quickly and the numbers?" Joe asked me. Of all the things I'd said, the one thing he asked me was where I learned to memorize Bible verses. Well, I wasn't complaining about that.

"There is a song we sang at my home church that is the words to those verses. I remember the song so I remember the verse. It's kinda nice," I admitted.

Joe was giving me that strange, scrutinizing look again, and I remembered why I was talking to him.

"So anyway, why are you so distracted?" I asked him again. "Don't worry, I won't tell anybody, and I won't laugh or get angry. I promise," I said, extending my hand. Joe looked blankly at it. "I'm offering you a deal," I explained, "I will not tell anybody why you are so distracted if you tell me why. And if I do tell anybody, you can have my…" I paused to think of what I had of value that he would want.

"If you tell anybody, you have to wear an 'I love Joe Kingman' shirt to work," he laughed.

"Deal," I agreed, and shook his hand. "So what's up?"

Joe sighed a great deep sigh, and from across the table, I could smell his spearmint-scented breath. Ooh, it smelled good. "Well it started the night you interviewed me, and it's been growing since then. You just aren't – normal – no offense," he said.

"Oh no don't worry about it, I already know I'm strange," I replied blandly and we laughed.

"I don't understand why you aren't attracted to me, I mean, I'm Joe Kingman!" he said, his old self showing through again.

"Would you like me to explain or should I wait until you're done with your explanation before I tell you?" I offered.

"Just wait till I'm done," Joe said and continued, "after that, little things like how you don't drink alcohol, you aren't ashamed to carry around a book purse, you wrote a book when you were eleven, stuff like that, everything slightly unusual about you confuses me even more," he said.

"Why is that confusing?" I was beginning to become confused myself.

"I've never met anyone who has such a unique personality and is able to express herself as loudly as you do," Joe answered after a pause. "And then when you came to my place to have me explain football to you, I was impressed by that. You showed me how hard you are willing to work just to do your job right, I like that," he continued, "the more I'm around you, the more I like you," he finally whispered.

Aha! So his confusion was not about _me _not liking _him_, it was about _him _liking _me_! At last, logic was beginning to show through. "So then when you saw me with Josh, you got angry and jealous because you had told him that you liked me and he took me to the football game to make you jealous. And that's when you became really distracted. But why were you distracted in the first place?" I asked him.

"Before the game, I was trying to figure out why you wouldn't like me, if there was anything I'd said or done to make you angry at me, or not like me. When people would say certain words, they reminded me of you and then I began wondering things like what your favorite food is, what you do in your past time, if you would ever see me again. After Josh, I was distracted because I was wondering what Josh could have done to make you like him more than you liked me. I don't get it, I'm Joe Kingman," Joe finished.

"Would you like me to explain my part now?" I asked him.

"I would like that very much, I am still very confused, as you can tell," Joe answered.

The waiter came by with our drinks and Joe told him that we both wanted fettucine alfredo, and no appetizers, soups, salads or anything. I guess Joe really wanted to talk.

"Well, I was raised in a Christain home, so my view on life is quite different than yours. I know what God wants us to do and I try my best to do what He wants me to do everyday. You, on the other hand, you do whatever makes you happy. Right there is our biggest difference. You see, I didn't like you because you were so arrogant, please don't be offended. You were self-centered and arrogant and selfish and a football player, which I don't like football players in the first place, I think they're overpayed and overpopular for performing such a brainless sport. That's why I didn't like you, your head was so swollen, once again no offense, that I couldn't stand to be around you," I explained.

A wave of understanding came over Joe's face. "So you just don't like me because I'm arrogant?" he asked.

"Exactly."

"Hmm," he thought for a long time about that. "Wait, why did you say you 'didn't like me'?" he asked me suddenly.

My face turned red. I hadn't realized I'd said that. Aw great, without even thinking about it, I'd given myself away.

"So you must like me now," he grinned and laughed. I laughed too. "What made you change your mind?"

"When Sanders talked to me about you today and he said how you were so distracted and sad, and all because I didn't like you and went to a single football game with Josh," I said. "You do know that last part is really pathetic, right?" I laughed.

"What can a guy do? I can't help it if I thought you were in love with another guy," Joe replied.

I had had no idea how much he cared. "And I keep having dreams about you," I continued, "Not normal dreams either, I already told you I'm absolutely abnormal. No, instead of dreams I have flashbacks where I see you holding the door for me or helping me take my coat off, the super sweet stuff you do. That's the other reason I'm starting to like you, it's stupid but I can't help it, I'm a girl, we think in strange ways, especially me. You do simple things that are really sweet actually, like holding the door for me or helping me put my coat on," I said.

"You have dreams about me?" he asked. I nodded, still a little embarrassed about that one. "I thought I was going crazy, good, I feel more normal now," Joe said.

"Just remember who the other person was that had them, and how normal I am," I responded and he laughed. "So what are your dreams about me like?" I was curious what he dreamed of me.

"Similar to yours, I see the times when unusual things about you came up. My favorite one is when I see the look on your face when I laughed at your book purse," he laughed.

"I told you I'm weird," I muttered and laughed with him. His laughter was contagious.

"Sometimes I see the times like when I made you promise to come to my place again, or when you smile or laugh. They're kind of random dreams, with no particular order or pattern," Joe continued.

"I like having them because I get to see the nice side of you almost every night, another reason I'm beginning to like you," I added.

"I have them every night," Joe murmured, rubbing his eyes. Now that I thought about it, he did look tired, "and I love them too. I get to see the parts I like best of you every night. It almost feels like you're really there. But then, of course, it makes it harder to wake up in the morning," he said and I felt a sudden wave of pity. Holy schnitzel, what had I done to this poor man? He was living in a dream world, trying to make visions of me last. This was really weird.

"Wow, this is really pathetic," I muttered.

"Why?" Joe seemed offended.

"Here we are, niether of us can concentrate on anything but each other, we're constantly having dreams of one another and yet niether one of us can come right out and tell the other we like them. It's kind of sad, huh?" I explained.

Joe thought about this for a minute and began laughing uncontrollably. I laughed too. It was pretty funny. We were so weird.

Our food came not long after, and for the rest of the night he asked me questions he'd been dying to know since the last time I saw him. His incredibly important questions were along the lines of 'What's your favorite color?' and 'What did you want to be when you grew up?' and things like that. I found out that his favorite colors were burgandy, black and white (the Rebels' colors), he had always wanted to be a professional football player, didn't have any brothers or sisters, had one dog his entire life, a Golden Retriever named Buddy and his favorite movie was 'Remember the Titans'. I told him that my favorite color was sky blue, I have Tim and Luke as brothers, had Baden and now Peanut, Sadie and Niveus as pets, wanted to be a world-famous author since I was eight and my favorite movie was 'The Phantom of the Opera'.

When he asked me what I like to do in my spare time, I laughed. "What do you mean by 'spare time'?" I asked him.

"What do you do for fun?" He rephrased.

"I go to the stable and either ride, muck out the barn or just sit and read a book with my horses," I answered. It was true, most of the time, I was either working, preparing for work at home or at the stable.

"Where is your stable?" he asked. I hoped he didn't want to surprise me and show up one day.

"An hour outside of the city. It's in a nice, private location, far off of the streets, very serene and peaceful," I replied. I loved my barn. It was older, but incredibly sturdy, surrounded by trees and fields and, besides the house of the owner of the barn on the grounds, there was no sign of human life to be seen for miles. "You should come see it some time, ride my horses, it'd be fun." Where were these words coming from? Why was I asking him to spend more time with me? That was his job – not mine!

"I'd love that," Joe answered immediately before I could take it back. We had both finished our food and were ready to leave. "Are you ready to go?" he asked me.

"Yeah, I guess," I sighed. I'd been enjoying myself entirely too much and was sad to see tonight come to an end.

I stood up and purposely waited for Joe to help me put my coat on, when I realized I hadn't brought a coat. _Aw darn_, I thought, wishing I had brought one. Wait a minute – what was I saying? Why did I want him to help me with my coat. _Stop it Jenna, you're going to end up doing something you'll regret, _I thought to myself. As we walked side by side, Joe put his hand gently against my back, leading me out of the restaurant and held the door out for me. I shivered immediately as soon as we left the restaurant. In the mid-November weather, I was freezing. Without thinking, I walked closer to Joe until our arms touched.

"Cold?" he asked and a strange sense of déjà vu washed over me.

"Very," I muttered through chattering teeth.

"Do you want my coat?" he offered.

"Please," I replied. How he could stand to wear only a dress shirt out in this weather was a mystery to me, but I told myself he was a big tough guy and he could deal for a few minutes. He draped his leather coat around my shoulders. It was soooo warm, it felt so good. "Thank you," I moaned, sinking deeper into the coat.

Joe smiled and I smiled back. How could I not like being around someone who was so happy all the time? Walking with the warmness of Joe draped over my shoulders, we made it to Joe's car quickly. He opened the door for me, I slid in, and he closed it behind me and got in on the other side.

As Joe drove me home (considerably slower than he had driven to the restaurant I might add), the car was much quieter than it was on the way to dinner. "Do you want to go somewhere for dessert?" he suddenly asked me when we were a few blocks from my house.

"Actually, I just made an apple pie and I think I have vanilla ice cream back home. Do you want a piece?" I offered, suddenly remembering. I had wondered when I was making the pie why I would make it but now I was glad I had.

"I would love a piece," Joe agreed instantly. Gee, it was real hard to persuade him. "Are you a good cook?" he asked me.

"You'll have to tell me," I answered. That made him smile.

We had reached my apartment building and he walked back into my apartment with me. I hung his coat up on a coat rack, and took my shoes off at the door. Peanut, who had been locked in my bedroom because the last time I left him alone, he had destroyed my new sofa, began barking crazily. "Peanut!" I shouted at him and his barking quieted to a whimper. "Take your shoes off, get comfortable," I told Joe. I walked into the kitchen, got out two plates and put a slice of apple pie on each. I had opened the freezer door and was looking for my vanilla ice cream when I heard Joe behind me.

"This is a nice place," he commented. I wished he wouldn't sound so surprised.

"Thanks," I replied, turning around from the freezer to give him a quick smile. He was giving me that confused look again. "Why are looking at me like that?" I asked him. You'd think by now he'd stop that. Had we not just discussed this not even twenty four hours earlier? Not even FOUR hours earlier?

"Nothing," he said quickly, the look vanishing. I gave him an 'I'm not buying it I know you're thinking something' look.

"Come on Joe, for crying out loud we just had an hour long conversation about this, you can tell me," I said.

"I'm not confused about you, I just have some things I need to settle with myself. Don't worry about it," Joe explained. I sighed, rolled my eyes and continued seaching for the ice cream. I stood on tippy-toe and found it behind a stack of ice trays.

"Aha! Thought you could hide from me, did you? Well, looks like someone was wrong," I muttered to the ice cream. I talk to inanimate objects often. I turned around, feeling triumphant, and was met with a wall of large, muscular body. A wave of something or another washed over me, giving me a strange sensation in my stomach.

"Do you need any help with anything?" he asked me.

"No thanks, I'm fine," I answered, my voice tight, and sidestepped around him, still feeling a little flustered.

I put the ice cream on the plates and microwaved them. While I waited the pieces of pie, I turned around, leaning against the counter, to talk to Joe. He was standing across the room, reading an article about J.K. Rowling's latest book I'd posted to the fridge.

"Did you write this?" he asked me.

"No, that's from a different paper all together, but I thought it was a good article," I replied. He came over to the counter I was standing at, leaned against it next to me and looked down at me.

"Hi," I muttered after a long second of staring back into his big brown eyes.

"Hi," he said very softly. "Did anyone ever tell you you have beautiful eyes?" he asked me, still quiet.

"More than one person," I replied. I had no idea why we were whispering, the only other being in my apartment was the dog.

He looked like he was about to say something else, but the microwave beeped before he could.

I gave him one last look and turned around to get the plates. "Do you mind if I go wash up in the bathroom before I eat?" he asked me as I tried to hand him his plate.

"Not at all, there's a bathroom down the hall off of the living room. Second door on the left," I answered, my tone returning to its regular volume. I went to the living room after I heard the bathroom door shut and turned the TV on. I flipped through channels, seeing nothing but news, news, old TV shows from the 80s, and Jeopardy. I stopped when I saw that 'The Office' was on, a rerun, but a great show nonetheless.

I ate the pie as I watched, not comprehending the show at all. My mind was back in the kitchen with Joe. What had gone on back there? Why was he confused? I groaned and laid my head back against the couch. What the heck had I gotten myself into? I closed my eyes and, naturally, saw Joe. A sensation swept through me again and I felt out of breath. Why did that happen every time I saw him? It was quite obvious now that I liked him, yes, but why did I like him so much? What had he done to make me like him so much? As far as I knew, he was still the same old Joe, full of himself and fat-headed, and I knew I didn't like that. Then again, he did act a lot differently than he had the last time I saw him. I was so confused.

"Tired?" I heard from behind me and my eyes snapped open. Joe was standing in the door of the living room.

"Wha? No, no, just thinking," I said. "Your plate is on the counter in the kitchen," I told him. I didn't really feel like serving him, though I knew I was being rude. He had legs and arms that apparently worked quite well, he could get it himself.

He didn't seem offended as he sat down on the couch next to me. Let me rephrase – he sunk into the couch next to me. Like I said, I've got a comfy couch that sucks you in when you sit down. "Whoa!" he muttered as he sunk in.

"Do you like my couch?" I asked him, smiling.

"Yeah," he nodded, "yeah, it's nice." He tried to sit up unsuccessfully.

"Just let it engulf you, it's easier if you don't fight it," I told him.

He tried, but didn't really understand how a couch could be so comfy after he'd been sitting on those rocks he called couches at his house. It was like sitting on a board of wood. I sighed, put my plate down on the coffee table and took his too.

"Stand up," I told him, rising from the couch. This he also tried but couldn't figure out how to do. "Oh my goodness, for a big football player you are really weak," I told him, "give me your hands," I said, took his hands, and hoisted him up out of the couch easily.

He looked shocked and eyed me up and down, "Holy cow, you're strong," he muttered.

"I've been mucking out barns for nine years, it helps," I said. "Now watch as I demonstrate how to sit in a couch," I laughed, this sounded ridiculous. Joe joined my laughter. "Alright, you just fall back, don't worry about posture, don't worry about pain, couches aren't for learning proper etiquette, they're for relaxing. Now as you sit down, let the couch engulf you. Lean back into it and prop your feet up on the table. You try," I told him, jumping up from my leisurely position on the couch.

He tried to do the same as I had, but his back was too stiff and he looked like he was ready to jump up at any given second. "Come on, just relax," I said. I sat down next to him and showed him. "Drop your shoulders. Loosen up, pretend like your going to fall asleep. Breathe, Joe, breathe," I told him, pulling his shoulders down, and patting his arm. I sighed, it wasn't working. "Oh for crying out loud, Joe, I've never met anyone who is so couch-impaired as you," I said and tried to think of a way to help him relax.

"Alright, stand up again," I said, helping him up. "Now, drop your shoulders, relax, you're too stiff," I told him. I stood on the couch, behind him and began massaging his shoulders. "Come on, Joe," I whispered in his ear, "relax," I said. Instead of relaxing, his tightened up, and stopped breathing. "Breathe, Joe, close your eyes, go to a happy place. Go to a field full of daisies and butterflies and unicorns where the sky is blue and there are trees all around. The trees are dancing in the wind, can you hear the stream talking to you? It's bubbling along, winding through the trees. Look in the stream, there's a school of fish. Look how pretty they are! They're blue and red and orange and yellow and magenta and purple, there's a different fish for every color of the rainbow. Speaking of which, did you see that rainbow in the puffy white clouds? Look, that cloud looks like a bunny, that one looks like a frog. Well I'll be darned, there is a frog right now, croaking on a lily pad, floating downstream. Oooh! Joe look! A herd of unicorns are galloping by! Look how pretty they are, with their tails flowing in the wind, they look so happy! Did you hear that? A fairy just whispered in your ear, she's flying around our heads. Look at the pretty birds in the sky! Have you ever seen such a brightly colored flock of birds? Mmm, do you smell that? It's the smell of fairy honey. The fairies are making honey buns for their big party they're having tonight. It's a celebration for the Queen Fairy, she has just learned the secret of making good dreams. Now, anytime a little child has a bad dream, the Queen Fairy can come and replace it with a good one. And what a celebration it will be! Did you hear, the crickets are going to be playing their music and the fireflies will light up the little hollow in the woods," I told him, becoming quite relaxed myself, imagining this dreamland. It was working, Joe's shoulders had dropped completely, his breathing slow and even. He was beginnign to fall asleep. I'd better stop, I didn't want a football player unconscious in my living room all night.

"Joe?" I whispered in his ear. Joe made no response. "Joe, wake up," I muttered.

"Hmm?" he turned his head slightly, his eyes still closed.

"Joe, come on, you need to wake up," I said, giving his shoulders a little shake.

"But what about the fairy celebration?" he mumbled. I tried not to laugh hearing big tough Joe talking about a fairy celebration.

"Humans can't come to a fairy celebration, they aren't magic enough," I said softly, as if speaking to a small child.

"Oh," he sighed, "I wanted to see the fairies dancing and the fireflies light up the sky and hear the crickets singing." Joe seemed truly disappointed.

"Maybe another night," I said, "You need to wake up and go home now. It's getting late and I need to go to work tomorrow," I told him in a normal tone.

Joe's eyes snapped open. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize you had to go to sleep," he said and turned around quickly.

"It's alright, do you want to take a piece of pie for the road or would you rather just eat it here another night?" I asked him.

"Are you inviting me to come over again?" Joe asked me. His old grin came back.

"It depends on how much you want that pie," I said slyly.

"I'll definitely come back," Joe answered. I knew he would. "Do you want any help cleaning this up?" he asked me, gesturing towards the pie and the now melted ice cream.

"That's alright, I'll get it later. I can tell you need just as much sleep as I do," I said and laughed. I walked with him to the door and offered him his coat.

"Thanks for letting me wear it," I said as he put it back on.

"No problem, thanks for having me. I'll practice sitting on a couch the right way before I come back," he joked.

I laughed, "Just call me when you want to come back," I said.

"I will." Joe put his shoes on and was about to leave when he turned around. "Good-bye," he said.

"Bye, Joe," I said, "Thanks for dinner."

"Don't mention it," he said. I hugged him quickly, savoring each second and let him out, seeing a happy look on his face as he left.

I closed the door and put the plates of apple pie in the sink. "Oh Jenna, what have you done?" I said to myself. As I took a shower, I thought of what Joe had said about me at dinner. _The more I'm around you, the more I like you, _he had said. This was beginning to be a true statement for both of us. He liked me and I liked him but niether of us had really said anything about getting back together except for pie, but that wasn't really 'date-ish'. So if he liked me so much, why didn't he just ask me out already? Was he still afraid that I'd say no?

I remembered how he was so distracted by me, and how I was affecting his career. After tomorrow, the Boston Rebels would either hate me or love me for Joe's behavior. Right now I was pretty certain they didn't like me after Joe had been acting so strangely. I was so glad that Sanders had had the nerve to approach me and explain to me what was going on. I'd have to get this guy's number and thank him. Without him, I'd have been lonely again tonight and who knows what would've happened to Joe.

I fell asleep seeing Joe's face when he had stood next to me, leaning against the counter. I wondered what he had been thinking as he stoood there, analyzing me. He had told me I had beautiful brown eyes. Whoop-die-ding-dong-doo, most of the people I knew had told me that at some point or another, most people told me that more than once. But no one had ever said it just like he had.

I remembered that strange sensation that had swept over me as I turned to see him standing right behind me. What was that all about? Why did that happen everytime he came too close? Why was it that when I was supposed to make him relax, he stiffened and couldn't breathe?

So, quite obviously, I fell asleep completely confused but also quite happy that Joe and I were on speaking terms again and he really did like me. _Just wait till I tell Lindsey about this_, I thought.


	7. Easy as Pie

Note from the author: The religious material in here was not meant to be offensive to anyone. If you find it offensive, please let me know and I will remove it at once. When I wrote this I wasn't expecting anyone but my aunt to read it so I totally forgot about it. Please don't be mean about it and report me or anything though because I really wasn't trying to offend anybody. This is simply how the characters act and what they do religiously is just as much a part of their character as what kind of sodas they like or thier favorite type of music.

One more disclaimer: As I said before, the song I Got Nerve by Hannah Montana does not belong to me and I don't pretend that it does. Just adding that in there just in case.

Please review!!

**Chapter 6: Easy as Pie**

The next day as I was walking back to work from lunch, my cell phone rang. "Hello?" I answered, looking both ways before I hurriedly crossed a street.

"Hey Jenna, I called you last night but you never picked up." It was Lindsey.

"Lindsey! Oh, I'm sorry! I forgot that you were going to call me, you must've called after I was asleep and I didn't hear the phone," I apologized.

"It's alright, I was really tired. How could you forget? You never forget stuff like that," Lindsey sounded hurt.

"Oho, wait till I tell you," I laughed. "Do you have time? It's a long story," I said.

"I've got time," Lindsey replied though I was sure she didn't.

"Well when I hung up with you, I started thinking about Joe and what you said and I asked myself if I liked him or not, I couldn't really decide if I did. So I started doing Joe math," I began.

"Joe math?" Lindsey laughed.

"Don't ask," I muttered, "And I had just figured out that math couldn't decide if it liked Joe or not and the phone rang and guess who it was," I continued.

"Josh?" Lindsey asked.

"Joe."

"NO!"

"Yes."

"What did you say?"

"I dropped the phone, actually," I laughed, "he asked me out to dinner."

"And you said no of course," Lindsey sounded like she'd hurt me if I didn't agree.

"Not exactly," I said slowly.

"JENNA!! What is wrong with you?!" Lindsey shouted.

"Lindsey, tone it down," I said, I was back in my office and people were staring at me. I guess Lindsey could be heard through the phone.

"So what happened?" she persisted.

I explained the rest of the night to her and she got really REALLY angry when she heard I invited him into my apartment for apple pie, and even angrier, if such is possible, when I told her I massaged his shoulders. "Jenna, do you _want _a brainless football player for a boyfriend, emphasis on the _player _part of his title?!" She exclaimed.

"No, I don't," I said quickly, "I want _Joe _for a boyfriend. The really sweet Joe I had dinner with last night," I defended him. I happened to need the copier which is right near Josh's desk as I was saying this. Through my peripheral vision, I could see Josh twitch when I said this and tried not to laugh.

"Jenna, what if he was just pretending to be that way so you'll like him and then turns out to be a jerk like Josh?" Lindsey retorted.

"Lindsey, after I talked with Sanders about this and he told me how Joe was acting, I'm pretty sure Joe is being completely honest with me unlike _other people_," I said, trying to emphasize to Lindsey that Josh was not even ten feet away from me while we were talking so I couldn't talk about him without creating a scene. However, I was proud to see Josh twitch again.

"What if they're all in on it? Trying to get back at Josh?" Lindsey suggested. I wondered why she didn't like Joe so much.

"Lindsey, I could tell you quite a few reasons why I think that you're wrong but I have other things to do right now. If you want, you are welcome to come over tonight and we can talk more. Aren't your parents going to dinner or something tonight?" I asked her.

"Yeah, they won't be in until late. I think I might come over," Lindsey said.

"Great, I'll see you then," I said, returning to my desk.

"Bye," she said and we hung up.

As I walked to my car from work, my cell phone rang. I looked at the screen and saw that it was Joe (I had programmed Joe's number into my phone last night so that if he called again, I wouldn't have to risk dropping my phone on hard pavement). "Hey Joe," I said.

"Hey, Jenna." I loved the sound of his voice, it was so happy sounding. At least when he talked to me. "Do you know what I have been craving all day?" he asked me.

I hoped he was talking about food. "No, what?" I asked warily.

"Apple pie."

I laughed. "Really?" I said, still laughing. "That's strange, I wonder why you've been craving apple pie," I said sarcastically.

"It's a strange thing," he said.

"Well, I'll just have to satisfy your craving," I told him, "after all, we can't have Boston's star quarterback craving apple pie before the big game coming up. Would you like to come for dinner, too?" I offered as I got into my car.

"I would never turn down a dinner made by you," he replied. I tried not to roll my eyes and blush at the same time.

"Come on over tonight whenever you like. I'm just driving home now so don't come right away. Is there something in particular you want me to make?" I asked.

"I'm not a picky eater," he said.

"Great, well if you have any suggestions just give me a call. I'll have to see what I have at home," I muttered more to myself than to Joe.

"If you need me to stop at the grocery store, call me," Joe offered.

"Thanks," I said, my face turning red. Why, I don't know. "I'll see you tonight, then."

"Bye, Jenna," Joe said and I hung up.

When I got home, I fed Peanut and looked through the cupboards, deciding to make chicken pot pie. I set the chicken out to thaw and, seeing that it was only five thirty, gave it a half hour before I began cooking. I changed into an old black tanktop and my gray 'barn bum' sweatpants. I put my hair into a ponytail and started working out. I work out everyday, it especially helps when I'm anxious, which I will not deny being just then, if asked.

I was just reaching my favorite song on the Hannah MontanaCD when I saw it was six o'clock and I was incredibly sweaty. I hopped into the shower, took the quickest three minute shower of my life, changed into another old gray oversized T-shirt, and this time my black sweatpants that say 'kickin butt' on the back with little horseshoes. I blew my hair dry and had just finished putting it into a ponytail when the doorbell rang.

I ran to open the door, shutting Peanut in my room so he wouldn't hurt poor Joe. Any time a man had come anywhere near me when Peanut was around since the Josh incident, Peanut would attack them. It was beginning to be a problem. I hurried to open the door, and when I saw Joe standing there, all dressed up and hair combed real nice and everything, I realized I looked like a hobo, and slammed the door in his face before I could say hello. "Hold on one second," I said, opening the door again and closing it in his face.

I ran to my room, changed into brown corduroy pants, a dark turquoise 'smock top' with a dark blue cami underneath and brushed my hair after I took it out of the ponytail. I brushed up a little more makeup and ran back to the door. "Sorry about that," I said as I let him in.

"No problem, these are for you," he said, handing me a bouquet of roses.

"Oh Joe," I said, grinning a broad grin, "Thank you, they're lovely," I smiled up at him. He was smiling back.

"You look very pretty," he commented.

"Thank you," my face was turning red. "You can take your shoes and coat off," I said, gesturing towards where my shoes were by the door. "I'm going to get a vase for these," I muttered to myself and hurried into the kitchen to find a vase.

Of course, my only vase that was large enough for this fairly large bouquet of roses was on the tippy-top shelf that I couldn't reach. I was just straining to reach it when I felt a hand on my back, shrieked and leapt nearly high enough to reach it.

"Sorry, didn't mean to surprise you. Do you need help?" he offered, withdrawing his hand.

"Please," I replied. He reached up, didn't have to stretch at all, and handed it to me. "Thanks," I said for the third time tonight.

"No problem," he smiled. I smiled back and laughed. "What's so funny?" he asked me.

"Nothing, you're just so happy all the time, it's contagious," I said, smiling even broader. "That's another one of those things I like about you," I added.

Joe smiled bigger if that is possible and we both began laughing uncontrollably. I don't know why, I guess we were both nervous and giddy and glad to have something to laugh about.

When we were gasping for breath, I filled the vase with water, put the roses in it and set it on the dining room table. "Can I help you make dinner?" Joe asked as I opened the fridge.

"Sure, you can start by handing me the cutting board and gray knife behind you," I said, putting the chicken that was still rather cold in the microwave to help them thaw. Joe took the cutting board and knife to the counter by the sink and I went to the fridge. I handed him a bag of carrots, celery, an onion and peas and he put them on the counter. I brought out a bag of potatoes and a jar of chicken gravy from the pantry and a pie crust and was ready to start the pot pie.

"You can peel the potatoes in the sink while I cut these up," I told him, handing Joe the bag of potatoes.

"How do you peel potatoes?" he asked me after a minute of staring at the peeler and potato blankly.

I looked at him for a second before I realized he was being serious and went to the sink to help him. "It's not difficult at all, just take the peeler and peel away from your hands. Like this," I said, taking his hands and, with my hands over top of his, guided them as I peeled the potato.

I let him try himself and he struggled with the next stroke. "Would you rather I peel the potatoes and you cut up the vegetables?" I offered.

"Yeah, please," he said. We switched positions and I quickly peeled four potatoes and he chopped them up as I peeled two carrots and washed them. We worked quickly that way, me peeling and washing the vegetables that needed to be peeled and washed, and him chopping up all of them. When we were finished, I got the chicken out which he chopped up while I put the crust in the pie pan and put water on to boil the chicken.

About a half hour earlier than it normally would have taken me to prepare the pot pie, Joe and I had it in the oven and baking. I washed the dishes and he dried while we waited for it to bake. Once, while explaining how often my mother called me, I threw my arms out too quickly and threw soap foam at Joe, which hit him in the forehead.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I said, laughing.

"You think that's funny, huh?" he asked, jokingly and splashed more bubbles on me. I shrieked and jumped away, spraying bubbles in Joe's direction.

Before I knew it, we were in a bubble-battle and we were both covered in bubbles, wet in several different areas and laughing uncontrollably. It was then, covered in bubbles and doubled over laughing that the doorbell rang.

I took my gloves off and, still laughing, Joe and I walked to the door. I opened it and realized that I had also invited Lindsey over for dinner. Immediately, my laughing ceased and as Lindsey saw me and Joe standing in the door, laughing together and wet, her eyes grew wide.

"Hey, Lindsey," I said after a second of recognition passed over both of us. "This is Joe, Joe this is my best friend Lindsey," I introduced them.

"Nice to meet you," Joe said, extending his hand, but Lindsey looked straight at me and said, "We need to talk now."

She grabbed my arm and dragged me down the hall. "Joe, will you shut the front door please?" I called over my shoulder as I was dragged.

"No problem," he said and I heard the door close.

Lindsey pulled me into the master bedroom, and locked the door behind us. "What is going on?" she whispered. She sounded dangerous and unfortunately for me, Peanut likes Lindsey. I was getting afraid.

"I'm so sorry Lindsey, I told you that I'd told him to call me when he was ready to come over for pie and he called after work today. I completely forgot that you were coming too. Please don't hurt me," I said hurriedly and squinched.

"I understand that much, I mean what is going on _now_? Why are you and him covered in bubbles and wet?" she growled.

"We were washing the dishes," I muttered, confused that she'd figured out why Joe was here with her.

"And?" she asked.

"And we started a bubble-battle," I continued, sounding like a guilty child.

She looked as if she were really going to kill me for a minute and then she began to laugh. "A bubble battle?" she asked.

I nodded. "Sorry, do you want to start another one? It was a lot of fun," I said, still quiet and afraid she would be angry.

"No, I'd rather not," Lindsey replied, shaking her head, "Can you ask him to leave?" she asked me after a pause.

"Lindsey," I groaned, "Can't you try to get along with him for one night?" I begged her.

"Not really, no," Lindsey said.

"Lindsey, he brought me flowers and we were just having a really good time together. Please? I'll take you out to dinner anywhere you want anytime you want for the next month," I promised.

"Anywhere and anytime?" she asked after a hesitation.

"Absolutely," I said.

"Alright, but can I please be mean?" she asked.

"NO!" I replied firmly.

"Party pooper," she mumbled and we left the room.

As we came down the hall, the timer for my pot pie went off and I ran to the kitchen. Joe was walking to the oven to turn the timer off. "I'll get it," I said. I didn't want him to burn himself or anything. I looked at the pot pie and saw that the top was not yet golden brown and set the timer for another five minutes.

As I checked the pot pie, I heard Joe say to Lindsey, "Hi, I'm Joe."

"I know who you are," Lindsey replied, her voice dripping with dislike.

"Lindsey," I snapped.

"What?" she asked innocently. I glared back at her and went to the sink to find the dishes done.

"You finished the dishes?" I asked Joe.

"Yeah, you don't mind do you?" he replied.

"Thank you Joe, that was really nice," I said and smiled at him. He smiled back. Big happy perfectly-aligned-teeth-smiley Joe.

"Jenna, what are you making?" Lindsey asked me, breaking the happy stare between me and Joe.

"What?" I mumbled, still in a daze. "Oh! I'm making chicken pot pie," I said, shaking my head quickly as if to erase the feelings that had washed over me, and turned to look at Lindsey. She was glaring at me. "Do you want corn on the side?" I offered.

"I love corn," Joe said immediately.

"Who doesn't?" I replied and got a can of corn out of the pantry. I had put it in a bowl when Joe stepped next to me.

"Do you need any help with anything?" he asked me.

"Would you mind putting this in the microwave for a minute while Lindsey and I set the table?" I said as I took silverware and napkins out of a drawer.

"No problem," Joe replied and did as he was told.

"Come on Linds," I said and pulled her by the sleeve of her shirt into the dining room where she set plates and napkins down and I put silverware and glasses down.

"Jenna, he needs to leave now," Lindsey said, not bothering to lower her voice.

"Ssh!" I said, putting a finger to my lips, "Don't talk so loud," I whispered. "And he is not leaving until or after you leave," I said quietly.

"Jenna he is all over you and he is trying to do the same to me, he's trying to get me to be all nice and encourage you to like him – that's not gonna happen," Lindsey said in a loud whisper.

"Lindsey, please, for this one night just forget about any grudges you've got against him and try to get along with him. Please," I said.

"Not if he continues to act like this," she said.

"Like what, exactly?" I asked indignantly.

"I saw the way you two stared at each other and how he keeps moving to where you are and trying to help you with something and keeps 'accidentally touching you',"Lindsey said.

"So what if he likes me and I like him back? So what if he stands by me? What is so bad about our hands touching for crying out loud Lindsey, you act like an old woman! You know me, you know I wouldn't do anything bad. I haven't even really hugged him yet. He hasn't officially asked me out. How much do you think I will allow to happen in one night?" I defended myself. I have good judgement and I thought she would realize that after knowing me her entire life.

"What if he gets aggressive? He's huge, how will you stop him?" she protested.

"Lindsey, remember Peanut?" I said, my voice dropping even lower.

"What if you can't get to him?" Lindsey continued.

"Lindsey, I can take care of myself. To be honest, even if he did try something like that – which he wouldn't – what do you think you can do to stop him? Incase you haven't noticed, you are incredibly small and I doubt your hands can cover the length of his pressure points, let alone reach them. Lindsey, I'll be fine. Calm down and be nice or no dinners for the rest of the month," I told her as I lit three candles on the table that smelled like vanilla.

She was about to say something else when Joe came in to tell me the timer was going off for the pot pie. "Thank you Joe, I'll be there in a second," I told him and he grinned and walked back to the kitchen. "Be nice," I repeated to Lindsey and went to the kitchen.

I took the pot pie out of the oven and laid it on the counter to cool. I turned around from the counter to find Joe trying to make a conversation with Lindsey.

"So how long have you known Jenna?" he asked her.

Lindsey, with her arms crossed over her chest replied, "Much longer than you," in an icy tone.

"Lindsey!" I snapped, and she looked over at me innocently. "Be nice or go away," I said. She was really beginning to embarrass me.

"Bye," she said instantly and walked out of the kitchen. Two seconds later, I heard the door slam and I rolled my eyes, still angry at her. I looked over at Joe. His eyes were wide and he looked shocked.

"What'd I do?" he asked me.

"You didn't do anything. Lindsey's being a brat," I told him. "What would you like to drink?"

Soon, Joe and I were sitting down to dinner. He was about to devour my beautiful pot pie when I cleared my throat. "What?" he asked, a fork halfway to his mouth.

"We have to pray first," I said as if everyone knew this, I mean, who didn't?

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said and put his fork down. "Go ahead," he told me.

I took his hands, closed my eyes and prayed, "Dear Lord thank you for the food we are about to eat and thank you for giving me a wonderful job so I can pay for my nice apartment and yummy food when so many people aren't fortunate enough to get the education needed for my job. I thank you Lord for giving me a job that also allows me to meet people like Joe and I pray that you would help our friendship to grow. Please help Lindsey to be kinder to Joe and forgive me for getting angry at her. Please bless this food to our bodies and let us have a safe day tomorrow at work and remember to thank you for all of the blessings you bestow upon us. In Jesus name I pray and always will, amen," I said, opened my eyes and let go of Joe's hands.

"Do you do that every night before you eat?" Joe asked as he took a bite of pot pie.

"Yes," I said, "I always have a reason to thank God for everything he has done for me up until dinner time every day. I also pray before I go to sleep, which takes longer because I pray about everything that happened during the day rather than just the food," I replied, taking a bite of my own pot pie. Ooh, it was good. I would have to remember to thank God later for giving me a mother who could cook extremely well.

"This is delicious," Joe said, taking another bite of pie.

"Thank you, it's my mother's recipe," I told him.

"I'm going to have to meet her and thank her for teaching you these recipes," Joe said.

"I don't know if you want to meet her, she's insane," I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Is she crazier than you?" he asked me. That could have been taken as an insult, but I didn't. He was only speaking the truth.

"Yes, definitely," I answered and Joe laughed.

After a moment of silence, I asked him, "So if you had an entire day to do whatever you wanted, what would you do?"

"That's easy, play football," he answered immediately.

"But you do that every day," I said, "don't you ever get bored?"

"Nope," he replied simply, "Football is my life. Outside the field, nothing else matters." That sounded a lot like what he had said on his ESPN interview. Had he memorized the entire thing? I decided I didn't want to know.

"Really? That must get awfully boring after a while," I muttered more to myself than to anyone in particular. "Do you ever take a day off and just do something else, something relaxing and non-violent?" I asked him.

"Of course not," he said immediately and I was afraid I'd made him angry unintentionally. "How could I expect to win the championship if I decide I'm too tired today, I'll just skip practice. That's why we're going to win this year. We never say no," Joe replied. He sounded like he was giving a pep talk to his team rather than just having dinner with a nerdy little journalist who knew nothing of football.

"So you definitely think you're going all the way this year?" I continued.

"There is no doubt in my mind," Joe said.

Hmm, interesting. So football was still his life. Maybe I should ask another question to make myself feel better about liking him.

"Do you go to church?" I asked him.

"No, Sundays are game days, I have to get ready for the big game," Joe replied.

"Did you ever consider going outside of football season?" I continued.

"No, I usually practice Sunday mornings outside of football season," said Joe. Oh my holy schnitzel, this guy did nothing but play football!

"If I asked you to come to church with me would you consider coming?" I pressed. I had to get a good answer out of him.

"I don't know, are you inviting me?" he asked slyly.

"Well, not for this Sunday. I think it's better if we give Lindsey a bit of a break before she sees you again. Lindsey and I go to the same church and it would be pretty bad if you came, we wouldn't want to cause a scene in the middle of church," I said.

"Why doesn't she like me? Did I say something to make her angry?" he asked.

"Well, Lindsey doesn't like you for the same reasons I didn't like you before, she thinks you're too arrogant and self-centered. And she also doesn't like it when I talk about guys. We're twenty-two years old and she still thinks we're too young to be dating. I swear that girl won't be married until she's eighty-five years old," I told him.

"I'm sorry if I made her mad at you," Joe said.

"Don't worry about it, she needs to get over herself. She knows I've got good judgement and that I can take care of myself. Give her some time and she'll come around eventually," I said. We had both finished our pot pie at that time.

"Would you like another piece of pie?" I asked Joe.

"No thanks," Joe said and grinned. I stood up and took my plate and silverware. I was going to get Joe's too but he took it before I could.

"I'll get it," he said, smiling. I smiled back and took my plate to the sink.

"Do you mind if I use your restroom?" he asked as he set his plate on the counter at my request.

"Not at all," I replied and watched as he walked out of the kitchen. When I heard the bathroom door close, I sighed and felt a flurry of butterflies whirl through my stomach. I hoped Lindsey didn't stay mad at me for too long. I had never wanted this to come down to a choice between Joe and Lindsey. _I should get a second opinion on this, _I thought to myself as I put the rest of the pot pie in the fridge and started washing the dishes. I was thinking of a list of friends and family to call when Joe came back into the room.

"Hey, why don't I do the dishes for you?" Joe offered, stepping up next to me. He put his arm around my waist and I inhaled quickly, and began giggling.

"What?" he asked as I jumped away from his hand right into Joe.

"You're touching my tickly spot," I gasped looking up at Joe who seemed to be quite pleased that I had nearly jumped on top of him and was now so close I could smell his spearmint-scented breath. I wondered if he had brushed his teeth when he was in the bathroom, his breath smelled so nice and as he breathed, strange sensations took over my stomach. I tried yelling mentally at them to calm down or Lindsey would have a reason to worry but they paid my warnings no heed and continued scurrying around.

"I'm sorry," Joe said, removing his hand. I still didn't move but stared up at him. My goodness, he was handsome. I wondered if I would be liking him so easily if he was ugly.

"Don't be," I whispered, and we held a steady gaze for a time – long or short I couldn't tell. After a pause, I said, "I don't mind getting the dishes, you're my guest, you shouldn't have to."

"No, I'll get them, you made me a big dinner, the least I could do is help you with the dishes," he insisted.

"Are you sure?" I asked him and when he nodded earnestly, said, "Well alright then, if you insist." I handed him the sponge, got a rag out, and started to dry the dishes I had washed already. "Thank you," I added.

"No problem," Joe said, "I should be the one thanking you for letting me eat here."

"I don't mind, it's nice to have company that doesn't have a tail to share dinner with," I replied and he laughed. I have nothing against sharing dinner with Peanut but sometimes it's nice to talk to someone who actually talks back.

"Do you still want apple pie?" I offered.

"I would love some," he answered immediately. Actually, I think he just wanted to stay longer and the pie was a good excuse. I also won't deny the thought crossing my own head.

I put two pieces on their own plates and asked him, "Ice cream?"

"Of course," he replied and smiled.

Smiling myself, I put a scoop of ice cream on each plate and put the plates in the microwave. I dried the dishes Joe had finished washing while the pie was in the microwave.

"If I ate here everyday, I'd need to work out twice as hard," Joe commented.

"You're welcome to eat here as often as you like," I replied.

"Really?" he seemed pleasantly surprised.

"Definitely, I don't mind at all," I said, "just call before you come so I know how much food to make." _And how dressed up to be, _I added mentally.

"Thank you very much," he said earnestly, smiling at me.

"You're welcome," I replied smiling too. His smiles were so contagious, no wonder everybody loved him – he was so darn happy all the time! "I wish everybody could be happy all the time like you," I added.

"Don't be fooled, I'm not always this happy," Joe said.

"Really? You've always been like this anytime I've ever seen you," I replied and realized once the words were out of my mouth what I'd just said. _Duh Jenna, _I heard Lindsey yelling in my head, _because he's always happy when he's around you!_

"That's because you make me laugh," he answered.

"You haven't been laughing all night, just smiling," I remarked thoughtfully, ignoring the microwave going off.

"Well I don't laugh to your face when you're being serious, that would be rude," Joe replied as if this were obvious which it probably should've been. "The way you say things sometimes just makes me laugh," he added.

_He just won't admit that he likes being around me and I make him happy, _I thought to myself then thought, _well really, Jenna, who would? That's kind of embarrassing._

I went to the microwave and handed Joe his plate of pie. "Mmm, looks good," he said.

"Thanks, where do you want to sit – dining room or living room?" I asked him.

"Let's stick to the dining room, I don't want to risk the couch 'engulfing' my pie," Joe said and I laughed.

"No problem," I said, still laughing.

We started eating the pie and Joe made several approving noises as he ate – let me rephrase – devoured his piece of pie. "Is it good?" I asked him.

"Very," Joe said through a mouthful of pie. I really didn't need to see that.

"I'm glad you like it," I said and thought, _Wow. I wouldn't want to see him on Thanksgiving._ "So do you have any plans for Thanksgiving?" I asked him.

"I'm going over to Sanders' place. He's having the whole team over, so I'll probably be there most of the day and all night," Joe replied, "How about you?" he asked.

"I'm flying into Pittsburgh to visit my family," I replied.

"Is that where you're originally from?" he asked me.

"Yes."

"So what made you want to come to Boston?" he pressed.

"There are more and better jobs here," I answered vaguely. Actually, I'd been asking myself the same question since I decided to move here to Boston. I mean, I loved it there in Boston, but I always wondered why I didn't go to Kentucky or just stay in Pittsburgh. I guess I had needed to find a good paying job, save up my money for a while, buy a horse farm in Lexington or Midway, whichever I chose at the time, and find another job, maybe one with less hours, and have a nice little horse farm in Kentucky. I had also wanted to get married before I bought the farm but if I wasn't by the time I had enough money saved, I'd still go anyway. "How about you, have you always lived in Boston?" I asked.

"Born and raised," he replied and smiled.

"Did you ever want to go elsewhere?" I continued.

"Not really, I love it here," he said. He had finished his pie and I had too. I checked my watch. It was nine-thirty.

"Do you need me to go?" he asked suddenly. I guess he'd seen me eyeing the watch.

"No, no, no, no, no," I said quickly, "I was just seeing what time it is, I don't want you to leave," I replied.

"Are you sure? Cuz if you need me to go, I'll go, I don't want to be a burden," Joe said quickly.

"No, you're not a burden, not at all," I reassured him.

I reached for Joe's plate to take it to the sink but he took my hands and said, "Hey, listen."

I looked up at him expectantly, oh my – he was holding my hands! I tried to surpress a smile and a sensation in my stomach. His hands were so big and warm. I liked them.

"There's something I need to tell you," he said and looked down at our hands now linked together.

"Yes?" I asked when he didn't continue after a moment.

"I - …" he began when my cell phone started ringing. _I know where I stand I know who I am I would never run away when life gets bad, it's everything I see every part of me, gonna get what I deserve – I got nerve, _blared from my phone.

"Just a second," I said, leaned back and grabbed my phone out of my purse on the floor. "Hello?" I answered, staring at my left hand that Joe still held in his.

"Hey," came the drawling voice of my mother.

"Hi mom," I said blandly.

"What are you doing?" she continued.

"I have a friend over right now, it's not really a good time to talk," I replied.

"Tell Lindsey I said hi," mom said, assuming that my guest was Lindsey.

"It's not Lindsey," I said.

"Who is it?" mom snapped – going from happy, drawling tone to a snappy, sharp tone. I never understood why or how she could do that.

"Joe," I replied vaguely.

"Joe who?" she continued.

"Kingman," I mumbled.

"What? I can't understand what you're saying."

" Joe Kingman," I nearly shouted.

"Since when do you like Joe Kingman? I thought you hated him? And now he's having dinner there. How long has he been there? When were you going to tell me that you're dating Joe Kingman?" she snapped.

"Mom! Chill out!" I yelled, "He's not my boyfriend, we're just friends," I said through gritted teeth. I could feel Joe staring at me and my face turn red. I looked up at him, smiled sheepishly and mouthed 'sorry – crazy mom' I pointed towards my phone. He nodded understandingly.

"Well you better be careful around him, men like him can get aggressive and you're only a little girl," she warned me. As if she had any room to talk about large men becoming aggressive.

"You can save the safety lecture, I already heard it from Lindsey. And I'm not a little girl – I'm twenty-five years old mom for crying out loud! I'll talk to you about this later," I said and when she continued hollering over the phone, I added sarcastically, "Good-night mom. I love you too." I flipped the phone shut and put it back in my purse.

I looked up at Joe who was staring at me with wide eyes. "Sorry about that, I told you she was crazier than me," I said and he laughed. "So what did you need to tell me?" I asked him after he stopped laughing.

"Uh, you know what, it's not really that important," he said, letting go of my hand, which I looked down at sadly. I liked holding his hand.

"Are you sure?" I asked, it was best that if he had something to say – however painful it may be to listen to – for him to say it.

"Yeah, it's fine," he reassured me.

"Okay," I mumbled, "well I'd better let you go, it's getting late," I added after a moment.

"Yeah, definitely," he said and stood up. I walked with him to the door and watched as he put on his leather coat. As he swept it from one arm over his back, a gust of air flew by me and I caught a whiff of the lovely smell that went with that coat. It smelled like a combination of men's deodorant, spearmint, and leather. What a lovely smell. They should make a candle with Joe-scented wax. I would buy one.

"Anytime you want to have dinner here, just call, okay?" I reminded him before he left.

"I will," Joe smiled, "thanks for dinner and the pie," he said.

"No problem. I'll see you later," I replied. He embraced me in a one-armed hug and left, still smiling.

As I closed the door, I groaned and went to let Peanut out of my room. After I put the plates we had eaten pie off of in the sink, deciding I was too tired to do them at the moment, and let Peanut out one last time, I showered and went to bed. However, I was unable to fall asleep for several hours and lay staring at the ceiling, pondering upon many subjects.

One, mom, what had she called for in the first place? What would she think of me having dinner with Joe? Would she constantly be bugging me about it? Would she be asking my doorman every night if he saw Joe leave? Would she call Lindsey and request an extra dosage of annoying close watch on sneaky little Jenna and her big, mean aggressive Joe? I hoped she wouldn't flip out too much but I know my mom better than that to know that she would not easily forget this incident.

Two, Lindsey, would she be really super infuriated with me or just plain mad? Would she understand that I know what I'm doing? Would she be able to see past the old Joe we both hated? Would she see past Joe period for our friendship? Would she trust my judgement? Would she become annoyingly watchful of me and check my cell phone while I was in the bathroom to see if Joe had called or texted and then read the texts though I rarely get them (he usually called)? Would she still hang out here like always? Would she harrass Joe? Would my friendship with her ever be the same again?

Three, finally and most obviously, Joe. What did he want to say that was so important before mom called but so not important after she called? Was it something I had said that made him change his mind about what he was going to say? I tried to think back to what I had said and remembered telling mom he was not my boyfriend through gritted teeth. That was probably a bad thing if he had wanted to ask me out. Maybe that's why he wouldn't tell me what he was going to say – maybe he was planning on asking me out and then was afraid I'd say no after how I'd told my mother that he was only a friend. Uh-oh, I could've just ruined a big chance to move up in my relationship with Joe. Schnitzel. Me and my big mouth. Mom and her big mouth.

I also wondered how he felt about me. Did he like me as much as I liked him? Did he have sensations in his stomach every time we touched? Did he enjoy the smell of my coat as much as I did his? Did he want to come back the way I wanted him to come back or had my phone call with mom and the incident with Lindsey thrown him off too much? I hoped not, cuz if he was willing to ask me out I was more than willing to accept.

The last thing I wondered about was how my life was going to change now that Joe was comfortable coming to my place for dinner at any time. Would this effect my horseback riding schedule? NO! If nothing else, that was staying the same no matter what. If he wanted to come he was more than welcome but I refused to give up my barn time for him, perfect teethed or not. What about the days I didn't ride? How much time would be dominated by him? Would I have enough time for work? Would I have to stay up later? Would I always lay in bed for hours wondering about these things?

One thing I knew was for sure as I began drifting off and the image of Joe standing so close I could smell his breath entered my mind – I was losing the normality and regularity of my life… and it was easy as pie.


	8. If We Were a Movie

Disclaimer: The songs I Got Nerve and If We Were a Movie by Hannah Montana belong solely to her company and Disney. I do not claim that I wrote them. I'm not sure if it's necessary to add that or not but I figure I'll stay on the safe side and keep it in there just in case.

Sorry if it's kinda corny. Sometimes I write these things at odd hours in the morning. And incase you haven't noticed, I like using songs to demonstrate what I'm feeling. Parts of this story are based around some of my favorite songs because I get ideas for stories when I listen to them.

Please review!! :)

**Chapter 7: If We Were a Movie**

When I finally fell asleep, I had a wonderful dream about Joe. I was at the beach with him, which is a wonderful dream in itself because Joe didn't have a shirt on and my oh my does he have a hot body or what! The better part was that I was pressed up against him and he had his arm around my shoulder. The entire dream was sort of just that, I can't remember him saying a whole lot but I remember sighing dreamily every five seconds and sitting closer and closer to him. What a lovely dream.

As I woke up, smiling, I decided I should call up Joe and tell him I was done with the friendly flirty dinners. I wanted to move forward with him, and did he feel the same way? I had hoped that he would have asked me out first but given the time he had had and the countless opportunities, I figured I'd better just ask him how he felt and then maybe he'd ask me. If not, I'd have to just come right out with it.

I was pretty distracted at work that day, I didn't even notice that Josh was especially rude but found out later from Margaret, the secretary at the _Boston Press_. I drove home anxiously, hoping he would just call me and make things easier but he didn't. Of course. My cell phone rang while I was on my way up to my apartment and I quickly answered it without looking at the caller ID.

"Hello?"

"Jenna, it's Lindsey," I heard from the other end. Aw man.

"Hey Lindsey. Look, I'm really sorry about last night, I totally forgot that I had invited you over and him. Please don't be mad," I apologized.

"I was just calling to see what happened," Lindsey said, she didn't really sound very happy as she spoke.

"Are you angry?" I asked, cringing as I unlocked my door.

"I'll decide if I'm angry or not when I hear your story," she replied.

I told her how we had dinner, he seemed interested in going to church, he helped me do the dishes (I skipped the part about how he put his arm around me), the 'important thing' he had to tell me, and mom's phone call.

"What did he want to tell you?" she asked me.

"I don't know," I replied.

"Say no," she said firmly.

"What?" I asked.

"Whatever it is he wants you to do, say _no_!" she repeated.

"Why?"

"Because he is no good for you. He's aggressive and arrogant and stupid and mean…" she rambled when I cut her off.

"What are you talking about? How would you know? He has been nothing but nice to me and you keep ragging on him. Give it a rest already would you? He is not aggressive, he might be arrogant, but he is the last thing from mean! He never stops smiling! Stop dissing him and tell me the truth. You're jealous aren't you? That he's spending time with me and now you can't. Lindsey, you had to believe that I'd start dating sooner or later," I was on a roll and then she hung up on me. How rude.

I thought back to last night when I had wanted a second opinion and by instinct dialed Aunt Juli's number. "Well hello there, Angelface," she greeted me.

"Hey Aunt Juli, I need some advice," I said.

"What's up?" she asked.

"Well there's this guy…" I started and explained everything that had happened since October 26th, 2007 up until today, November 15th, 2007. She laughed often about the little flirty things I said and did around him, and was pretty shocked at Lindsey's behavior.

"So what do you think I should do, Aunt Juli?" I asked her at the end of it all, "Should I call him and ask him out, call him and dump him or not call him at all and wait for him to call me?"

"Well sweetie, I wouldn't let Lindsey get in the way of you and Joe. He sounds like a nice guy. If I were you, I'd call him up and ask him how he feels. Once he tells you, you can either dump or ask him out. It sounds to me like he likes you and I'm sure he would love to go out with you," she told me.

I was just about to ask her what if he said no, when I heard the noise that signals someone else is trying to call me. "Hold on one sec, Aunt Juli," I said and looked at the phone. I dropped it when I saw that the caller ID said "Joe Kingman". "Aunt Juli, he's calling me," I said.

"Well ask him and call me back! I can't wait to hear. Bye!" She said and I mumbled a good-bye. I was suddenly very nervous.

I answered the incoming call. "H-hello?" I answered and cleared my voice. _Pull yourself together, you ding dong! _I thought.

"Hey Jenna, it's Joe," he said. What a lovely voice he has. I was melting already. Man I needed to stop this insanity already!

"Hi Joe, listen I needed to ask you something," I started when he said, "I'm sorry, can I ask you something first? It's really important. It's what I wanted to ask you last night," he said.

"Yes, yes, go ahead," I said. Maybe I would be saved from asking him out after all!

"Are we just friends?" he asked me after a pause.

"I meant to ask you the same thing," I replied. My heart started racing. He was going to ask me out!!

"Look, I really, really like you Jenna, but I have to tell you, I have a girlfriend," he said. My heart sank down to my toes. "So can we just stay friends?" he continued.

I had to push down the lump that had risen in my throat. "Y-yeah, no problem," I said, my voice cracking.

"Thanks, I hope you aren't mad," he said.

"No, no, have a nice time with what's-her-name," I told him, wishing he would get off the phone already so I could cry without him knowing.

"Tatiana," he supplied.

"Yeah, bye," I said and hung up without waiting for him to say good-bye. I stuffed my head into a pillow on the couch and cried long and hard, the images from my dream flashing in front of my face and the memories from last night circling around with them. How could I have let it get to this point? I shouldn't be the one crying on the couch. I should be the one dumping him and finding a hottie boyfriend. Who was I kidding – there was no hotter boyfriend to be had in Boston!

_Jenna, stop it, _I thought angrily to myself. Remember, I know where I stand I know who I am, I WOULD NEVER RUN AWAY WHEN LIFE GETS BAD!! Pull yourself together, forget the jerk and let it go. Yeah, that's right. I would. How could that jerk flirt and carry on with me and then just tell me 'oh, and by the way, I have a girlfriend'? Well he wouldn't get away with it any longer. Cuz _I_ _got nerve!_ Besides, he never said anything to make me believe there was something more than friendship. There was no reason why we couldn't just stay friends. I'd act all happy for him and secretly be crying at home but there was no way I'd be able to cut off all communications with him. I liked him too much and if I did he'd know I was mad. So yeah, I'd just pretend to be his friend and nothing more and maybe something tragic would happen to Tracey or Tanya or whatever her name was and he'd come back to me! Yay!!

Hmm, maybe I could make him want to dump Trudy before something tragic happened. I'd have to think about it. In the meantime, I needed to call Aunt Juli and take my anger out on her. _Poor Aunt Juli, _I thought as I dialed her number.

"Hey what happened?" she asked as she answered the phone.

"He has a girlfriend," I spat angrily, "Tasha or Tina or something stupid like that. It sounds like an hors d'oeuvre."

"Tatiana?" she suggested. I must have told her Tara's name before when I was telling my story.

"Like it matters," I snapped, "How could that jerk just play with me like this? Sure, flirt with me all you want Joe and then when I'm finally hooked on you, tell me, 'oh and did I mention, I have a girlfriend?'!"

"I'm sorry sweetie, I feel so bad. What are you going to do now?" Aunt Juli sympathized for me.

"He wants to stay friends, and I might as well. I mean, if I don't, he'll know I'm angry and then if he and Tammy ever break up, he won't ask me out. I still like him, but should I? Am I being too much like mom by still liking him after this?" I asked her.

"I think that as long as nothing drastic happens, you have reason to continue liking him. He never directly told you that he was madly in love with you even though he was flirting with you. Maybe he was trying to get you to stop flirting with him last night when he was going to tell you he had Tatiana waiting. The thing about your mom that was bad was she was going after a married man that continually told her he loved her and then walked out on her. Joe didn't do anything close to that with you, so you still have reason to like him, yes.

"I say, just wait it out, continue being friends with him, and if it's God's plan, he'll continue to be attracted to you and want you more than old ugly Russian Tatiana!" Aunt Juli said and I laughed.

"You're right. I shouldn't let this bother me. One day he'll realize what a cute couple we make. Thanks Aunt Juli, you rock," I said.

"Just doing my job," she replied laughingly. We talked for another hour and then she had to go. After she hung up, I made myself a very quick dinner of last night's pot pie and got dressed to ride. Whenever I need to escape my life for a few hours, I go riding. It always helps clear my head and relax.

As I was driving to the barn, my Hannah Montana CD was still playing from the last time I'd driven the car. Naturally, the song _If We Were a Movie_ came on. And of course the lyrics reminded me of Joe. "Yeah, yeah, when you call me, I can hear it in your voice. Oh sure! Wanna see me and tell me all about her. Lala, I'll be acting through my tears. Guess you'll never know that I should win an Oscar for the scene I'm in!" Hannah and I sang together. I emphasized the part about "Oh sure, wanna see me and tell me all about _her!" _and "Guess you'll never know that _I should win an __**Oscar for the scene I'm in!!**_" I decided after the part where she started saying, "Wish I could tell you there's a kiss like something more than in my mind," I should skip to _I Got Nerve_. The encouraging and self-confident words of that song made me much happier.

I was outside the Boston city limits and driving down the now familiar country road that led to Windy Acres, the stable I board Sadie and Niveus at, when my cell phone rang. I looked down at the caller ID. It was Joe. "The nerve of that man! Can't he just leave me alone?" I shouted at the phone. "No, Joe, I'm not gonna answer! Isn't it bad enough that I'm falling head over heels for you and you dump me right when I am finally ready to move forward? Do you have to continue rubbing ugly, stupid, fat, annoying Tabitha in my face?" I probably looked like a maniac with tears starting to run down my face, hollering at the top of my lungs at my cell phone but I didn't care.

After the ringing stopped, I pulled the car over, told myself to stop crying and pull myself together, played I Got Nerve as loud as it goes and continued driving. As I turned the corner of the long driveway leading up to my barn, I sighed in relief. Windy Acres is a small, old white barn tucked into the trees off of the road with a few fenced in fields surrounding it and an outdoor arena. It was an old, but sturdy barn and it held in the heat when it was cold outside. Out of all the barns I've been to, Windy Acres is the nicest in the winter, because it's never too cold inside.

I parked, saw that the only other people there were Alice, the riding instructor, and Emily, who came to the barn every day. Emily owned a large, chestnut thoroughbred gelding named Captain Ha Ha. His stall was next door to Sadie's, so Emily and I had become well acquainted. Emily, a woman of about the same age as I, with blonde hair and blue eyes, was probably the sweetest woman I've ever met. She loved riding more than life itself and treated Captain as if he were her own son, only probably better.

I entered the barn with my bag of carrots and apples and went to Sadie's stall first, only because her stall is before Niveus's. "Hey there, Sadie," I said. She immediately came over to me and nickered. "How are you doing, pretty girl? Have you missed me? I know, I know, here," I said and gave Sadie a few carrots.

After petting Sadie for a good ten minutes, I went to Niveus's stall. Niveus had heard me at Sadie's and already had his head sticking over his stall door. "Hello, my dear, how are you doing today? Are you ready for a good hard ride? I am. We're going to work extra hard today, buddy, I'm in the mood to run and jump," I told him. Niveus seemed more than happy to do whatever I wanted to, another reason why I love horses much more than humans. Stupid, perfect-teethed, arrogant, T-named-girlfriend-havers especially.

I quickly saddled Niveus and brought him in the arena as Emily was exiting. She and I greeted each other, she wished me a good ride, I thanked her and she went to the cross-ties. Alice was in her office, doing who knows what. I knew better than to tell Emily have a nice night, she always took at least an hour to unsaddle and brush down Captain, and I'd be done riding before she left. I'd have time to talk after my ride.

I quickly mounted Niveus, warmed him up with a few circles and transitions, and then asked him to give me a nice bouncy canter. I was so thankful that Emily had left a few jumps up in the arena. Niveus broke into canter and I could feel my stress blow away with the dust behind us. I asked him to give me a nice long canter around the arena a few times and he willingly obliged. He must have been inside all day. I wished it would get dark a little slower this time of year, I was really in the mood to take a long gallop through the field behind the stable, but it was too dangerous when it was dark. I'd have to stay inside tonight.

After I cantered Niveus for a few times around the arena in both directions, I was ready to jump him. Emily had set up two crossrails along each quarter line that measured about a foot and a half off the ground. I took Niveus over the first jump with a smile, we soared over the second with a broader smile, and by the time I had finished jumping, I was laughing carelessly. I let Niveus walk for a good ten minutes, since he had worked so hard without stopping. Yeah, jumping is tough on the leg muscles, but it does wonders for a heavy heart. I was just feeling so happy now that I'd gotten that out of my system.

Niveus was jumping much too easily over these crossrails.I dismounted and set the crossrails another half a foot higher until they were all two feet off the ground, and set up another one and a half foot jump directly after the first, creating a double. Now we were really talking. _Geez, _I thought, _if Joe got me this mad before a show, I'd win ribbons every time I went!_ I brushed the thought away and mounted again. I took Niveus in a circle at the top of the arena, before the first jump and developed his canter until it was nice and bouncy. As soon as I was pleased that he had a great canter, I approached the jump. He easily scaled the two foot crossrail and the jump after it, I love doubles, and a stride later sailed over the third jump. My heart leaped as high as he did, I love jumping!!

Niveus jumped the last three jumps eagerly and I let him walk after he did. I loved Niveus so much and told him so as I patted his now sweaty neck despite the chill in the air. Niveus let his head hang low while he took a breather and I slouched back in the saddle. I took my feet out of the stirrups, crossed them over the saddle and stretched my legs. I continued to stroke Niveus's neck to see how hot he was until he felt reasonably cool. I changed directions and tried the course on the right lead, rather than the left.

I cantered up to the first jump, cleared it and the second one, and turned to approach the second jump. I tell you, my Niveus can turn on a dime. I love him! He made the turn, cleared the jump, approached the second jump and made it over with ease. I turned him around on a circle at the end of the arena so that we were going to the left again and approached the double. Niveus and I were just jumping the last jump of the quarter line and I looked up to see where I was going. As I looked up, I saw that someone was standing in the door that goes from the arena to the aisle of stalls. I nearly fell off of my horse when I recognized my spectator. I'm sure by now I don't have to explain who it was.

I pulled Niveus to a halt in front of him. "What are you doing here?" I snapped before I could remember I wasn't supposed to be mad at him.

"I have to talk to you," Joe said, he sounded timid.

"You couldn't have called me?" I asked, exasperated. Niveus chewed anxiously at the bit. He wanted to get going again. I did too. I could feel my stress and tears returning.

"I did – ten times – but you never answered," he replied.

"Did you ever think I mighta been a little busy?" I asked him through clenched teeth.

"I know, but I felt really bad about just telling you about me and Tatiana over the phone. I should've told you in person. It was rude of me, I'm sorry," he apologized. I hadn't been expecting that.

I sighed and ran my hands through Niveus's mane since I couldn't reach my own hair through my helmet. "Could you wait until I'm done?" I suggested finally.

"No problem," he said and smiled his big wonderful smile at me. I smiled back less convincingly.

"C'mon, boy," I said to Niveus, turned him so we would go to the right and developed his bouncy canter again. We approached the first jump and he easily cleared it. The second jump was a piece of cake. We made the turn not quite so well as I had before, still cleared the third jump and soared through the double. I took Niveus through the change of directions circle again, picked up the left lead, and approached the double. We soared through the rest of the course easily, and when we had finished it to the left, I let Niveus walk until he cooled down completely. After a good fifteen minute cool down, I dismounted and walked to the door where Joe was waiting.

"C'mon over here," I told him and he followed me and my lovely horse. I got Niveus back to the cross-ties and saw Emily and Captain in the cross-ties behind mine. "Hey Emily, how's it going?" I greeted her.

"I'm doing well. How are you, Jenna?" she replied with a smile, appearing from under the neck of her horse. She had been brushing furiously under Captain's stomach.

"It's hard to tell," I sighed. "Emily, this is Joe, Joe this is Emily," I introduced them.

"How's it going?" he said and shook her hand.

"It's nice to meet you," Emily replied and went back to brushing her horse. "How was your ride, Jenna?" she asked me.

"Very nice, thank you, Niveus is spectacular. How was Captain for you today?" I asked her as I traded Niveus's bridle for his halter. I handed the bridle to Joe absentmindedly, muttered to him to just hold it for a sec, and hooked on Niveus's halter.

"Lovely, as usual," Emily replied, patting her big horse's neck.

"Jenna, I never knew you rode so well," Joe told me.

"Thanks," I said as I unhooked Niveus's girth, feeling the area of his stomach that the girth had covered. It was pretty sweaty.

"Do you always ride without stirrups?" he asked me.

"What are you talking about? I had my stirrups on," I replied.

"Not when I came in. See, they're crossed over," Joe said, pointing to the top of the saddle where, sure enough my stirrups were crossed.

"Well how do you like that? I jumped that whole course without stirrups. I was wondering why it was so hard to stay out of the saddle over the double," I muttered to myself and continued unsaddling Niveus. I took the bridle away from Joe, slung it over my shoulder, lifted the saddle and saddle pad from Niveus's back and began walking to the tack room.

"Can I help you carry anything?" he asked me, running up to my side anxiously.

"I'm fine," I replied shortly.

"Are you sure you don't want me to carry the saddle? Here, let me take it," Joe said and I shrugged, and tossed him the saddle lightly.

Joe caught it with a grunt. "What?" I asked, smiling, "is the little bitty saddle too heavy for big strong Joe to carry?" I said in a teasing voice.

"Just heavier than I imagined," he replied, his voice tight. I grinned to myself and showed him the saddle rack that it belonged on.

As he put the saddle on its rack, I hung the bridle. The reins had gotten caught on one of the neighboring racks and were stuck between the wall and the rack. I was reaching to dislodge it when I felt a hand at my back. "Let me get it," Joe said. I immediately tore away from his touch. It did me no good unless he was single.

Joe untangled the rein and hung the bridle on the rack. I had walked to the opposite side of the tack room and was rearranging the saddle pad on my saddle when Joe came over to me. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked me.

I looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Joe, you just told me to back off because you have a girlfriend, and you're flirting with me and touching me in ways that only boyfriends should. Make up your mind. You can't have the best of both worlds. Do you have a girlfriend or not?" I told him and felt tears welling up behind my eyes. I wished they would go away. I hate crying in front of people, especially Joe.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I'm sorry, I wasn't flirting with you, I was just trying to help you," Joe reassured me, "I do have a girlfriend, I'm sorry if I made you feel differently." He paused and looked at my face. My eyes were beginning to water. "Are you angry at me?" he asked.

I bit my lip and brushed away a tear that had escaped. "No, Joe," I said quietly, "I'm not angry at you." _I'm angry at myself for liking you so darn much_, I thought.

Another tear fell out of my eye and ran down my cheek. "Hey, don't cry," he whispered and brushed my tear off of my face with his thumb.

"Stop it," I said much louder and pushed his hand away. Joe's eyes got wide and he backed up a step. "Stop playing with me! What did you come here to tell me in the first place?" I asked him, trying not to shout and scare the horses.

"I came here to apologize for telling you about Tatiana like that," he said. I flinched when he said her name. It was like he drove a dagger through my heart each time he said it. "I know it was rude and cowardly of me. I'm sorry."

"Is that all?" I asked icily.

"I'd rather talk somewhere where we can be alone," Joe told me after a pause.

"Why do we have to be alone? Why can't we talk here? Emily and Alice are the only two people here, the rest are horses, what do you think they're going to do?" I snapped.

"I just want to have a long talk about all of this," he said.

"Start talking, I'm listening," I replied smoothly.

He sighed and looked around for help. Unfortunately for him, there isn't much help to be found in a room full of saddles and bridles. "Can't we talk about this over a cup of coffee or something?" he suggested.

"What is wrong with talking right here right now?" I asked him trying not to become angry. I wished he would just spit it out already.

"It's too tense," he said.

"What is tense about a barn? The barn is the most peaceful place I know of! It's the only place I can find inner peace if only for a short amount of time. What? Are you afraid Emily is going to go around telling people that Joe Kingman came to the barn and get paparazzi down here and it'll look like we're secretly dating behind Teresa's back? Give me a break, she probably doesn't even know who you are! Besides, do you think it'll look any better if someone sees us going into my apartment or having coffee together? Trust me, Emily isn't going to say a word, it's much safer here than any other place," I told him.

"Actually, I'm afraid if you get angry there are dangerous weapons around here and not too many human witnesses," he admitted.

I rolled my eyes, "What would a little girl like me do to a big guy like you?" I asked him.

Just as I was saying this, Emily entered the tack room. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were in here, I'll leave," she said.

"Don't worry about it Emily," I said, "Joe and I were just leaving," I said, eyeing him in a 'get out of here' way.

"Okay," Emily said simply and hung her bridle on its appropriate rack. I exited the tack room without waiting for Joe. I couldn't leave Niveus waiting forever just cuz some big mean man invaded my personal time.

"Hello, sweetheart," I said in my doggy-voice to Niveus. He nickered when he saw me and bobbed his head up and down. "I know, I'm sorry, honey, I got a little tied up, I'll take care of you. Look at you, you're all sweaty! You worked so hard for me, yes you did, and you're going to get lots of carrots and apples. And guess what I made you last night… some carrot cookies! I bet you're excited about those, aren't you, my handsome boy?" I told him as I covered him in a blanket so I could rub him down. "Yeah, you'll get lots of cookies as soon as I finish rubbing you down. I know, you're so very sweaty because you worked so very hard for me. We can't let you go into your stall all sweaty, you'll catch a cold! You'll be sneezing and coughing, tissues everywhere, a red nose, you'll hardly be able to talk, it'll just be a mess. You just stand here real pretty for a few more minutes and we'll take care of you. That's right," I cooed to my Niveus when Joe rudely interrupted me.

"Jenna?" he said.

"Do you mind? I'm talking to my horse here," I snapped, pointing at Niveus, who bobbed his head in agreement and pawed the ground. I patted him for that one.

"Is there a restroom here?" he asked. Boys and their bathroom needs.

"Yeah, straight down the aisle, first door on the left," I replied, gesturing in the general direction of the door. He thanked me, I blew him off, and continued explaining to Niveus how much he needed me to rub him down and feed him treats so he wouldn't catch a cold or starve to death. He loves it when I talk to him. His little ears twitch back and forth and he stands perfectly still as if he's intent on hearing every word I say to him. Is there any reason I wouldn't love him?!

I rubbed Niveus down until I felt he was ready to go back in his stall. Joe had come back five minutes prior to the completion of Niveus's rub-down, but I ignored him and continued my conversation with the horse. Joe stood there and watched me the whole time. As Niveus walked into his stall, Emily left.

"See you later Jenna, have a nice night," she called, "Nice meeting you, Jack," she said.

"Bye Emily, take care," I replied, waving back and trying not to laugh at her mistake.

"I-it's Joe," he corrected her.

She didn't hear him, she was already halfway down the driveway. I couldn't control myself, and let out a giggle.

"What are you laughing about?" he asked me.

"I told you she has no idea who you are," I laughed and he smiled. I could tell he was trying not to laugh. I fed Niveus his carrots and apples. When I brought out the carrot cookies he went nuts. He loves carrot cookies.

"Can I feed him one?" Joe asked.

"Sure, here," I said and dropped a carrot cookie into his hand. "Hold your hand flat so he doesn't accidentally bite you," I told him.

Joe held the cookie out to Niveus who inhaled it with noises of great approval. Joe laughed as Niveus's big hairy lips flapped over his hand. He patted Niveus on the cheek but Niveus tore away. He only likes to be patted while being fed, or being patted by me. Ha, take that, Joe.

Niveus finished his treats and Sadie had had her share. I patted Niveus's face and he searched the pockets of my hoodie for more treats. "So what did you want to talk about?" I asked Joe.

"How come he lets you pet him?" he asked indignantly.

"Cuz he likes me more than you; now what did you want to tell me?" I replied instantly.

Joe paused, stuffed his hands in his pockets, scuffed his shoe on the ground, stared at the ceiling and finally said, "Are you sure you're not angry?"

I paused a minute, considering the question, before responding with, "No, I'm not."

"You just said in the room with the saddles and stuff you aren't, were you lying?" he pressed.

"No, I said I wasn't angry _at you_. I never said I wasn't angry at all," I said.

"Who are you angry at, then?" he asked. Gosh, what was this, the Spanish Inquisition?

"Does it matter as long as it's not you?" I replied. Smooth, I know.

"Well, can I help you not be angry at whoever you're angry at?" he said.

"It would help a lot if you would let me have some time to myself," I replied instantly.

"What do you mean?" he asked. And the stupidity award of the day goes to Joe Kingman.

"Well as soon as I get home today, you call me. You tell me you have a girlfriend, which you seem to have forgotten before, but hey, whatever. Then, I'm on my way here, to get some alone time, have some peace, calm myself down," I started when he cut me off. Again.

"Wait – that, in there, with the jumps and stuff, that _calms you down_?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah, it does. Moving on, you apparently call me another ten times," I said, holding up my cell phone, "then _track me down_ and come to the barn, which by the way, is scary in itself that you would even think to do that, but, hey, whatever. And now, you're standing here rubbing Thora in my face and asking me a million questions. Do you see any time in there when I had some time to myself? As in, like an hour or more to myself when you weren't either calling me, tracking me down or questioning me?" I snapped.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I felt bad about just leaving you hanging like that," he replied.

"You know what, whatever Joe, I guess you were trying to be nice, but did you ever stop to think that maybe it would hurt a little more seeing you here, in person, and listening to you go on and on about Tamara?" I suggested.

"It's Tatiana," he corrected me.

"Like I care!" I shouted and Niveus threw his head up in the air, nearly clonking Joe in the face. I wish he would've.

"I'm sorry," he said and sounded as if he might start getting smart with me. Ohoho, he had no idea who he was messing with. "I thought you weren't angry about it, I thought you were cool with it. Forgive me for thinking when you said no you weren't angry at me it meant no!" he was beginning to shout.

"Don't shout around my horses!" I ordered him in a normal tone. "And by the way, I'm still a little confused myself about how I feel about the situation and since you've given me no time whatsoever to think about it, how can you expect a direct answer from me?" I added.

Joe didn't respond. He refused to meet eye contact, and stared at the ceiling. What a wimp.

After a pause in which I petted Niveus into peace again, I said in a voice cracking from exhaustion and sadness, "Is there anything else you wanted to say?"

"I just wanted to ask you if you still wanted to stay friends?" he replied in a quieter tone than before.

I sighed and rearranged Niveus's forelock. "Yeah, believe it or not I do," I replied.

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said. "By the way, how _did _you manage to track me down?" I asked him.

He gave a short laugh and said, "I called Lindsey, asked her where you were so I could tell you I hate you, which by the way was a lie just so I could figure out where you were, she told me Windy Acres, I found the website, got directions and drove," he replied.

"How did you get Lindsey's number?" I continued, still amazed at his determination to see me.

"I looked through the phone book. You'd be surprised how nice operators can be when you're Boston's star quarterback," he replied with a smile.

I shook my head. "Why'd you do it?" I asked him after a pause.

"Which part?" he asked.

"Why'd you put all the effort into tracking me down?"

He didn't respond for a few minutes. "Did you really feel that bad about it that you absolutely had to tell me in person and couldn't wait till I got home? Not many people would do that, you know?" I continued when he didn't reply.

"I don't know why exactly, I just felt like I really needed to talk to you in person, make sure you were okay," he said.

So he did care about my feelings. Interesting. Very interesting indeed.

"Well, Joe, I really need to go home and get some stuff done for work, so if you don't mind, please don't follow me home. You can follow me back into Boston because I'm sure you don't know the way, but please go to your own apartment," I told him. He laughed at that.

"Good-bye, Niveus, I love you, handsome," I told my horse, hugged him around the neck, laughed as he played with my hair with his lip, and kissed his cheek.

"You really love that horse, don't you?" Joe asked as I pulled away.

"Of course I do," I replied, giving my faithful horse one last pat. We began walking out and I stopped at Sadie's stall. "Good-bye Sadie," I said. She came to the door of the stall and let me kiss her cheek. However, when Joe went to pat her, she gritted her teeth loudly at him and pulled away.

"Why are your horses so mean to me?" he asked me.

"I don't know, I guess they just don't like you," I replied, suppressing a grin as we left the barn.

"Hey, I'm glad you're not angry at me. We should hang out again sometime," Joe said as he was getting into his car. I rolled my eyes. Yeah right. Let's hang out so we can talk about Torey and make Jenna angry, sure that sounds like a great plan! As if you haven't crushed her heart enough!

"Good-night, Joe," I replied and got into my car before he could say anything else. I drove out of the barn's parking lot and home so fast I don't know if Joe was able to follow me and quite frankly I didn't care enough to check.

Everything I did from then on was a blur. I vaguely remember letting Peanut outside for his walk, there was something about doing paperwork for the _Boston Press_, checking my messages and realizing there were fourteen messages on my phone, ten from Joe which I skipped through because I didn't want to hear them, three from Lindsey reminding me that Joe had called her and she wanted to know what happened and why wasn't I answering my phone and see I told you he was no good. The last message was from mom asking why I didn't call her back and she missed me and wanted to talk to me and please call her back. I didn't return any of the phone calls, I didn't feel like talking.

After I took a shower and brushed my teeth, I went to bed. Joe's words mixed with the lyrics from "If We Were a Movie" swirled through my head as I fell asleep. _If we were a movie you'd be the right guy, "hey, don't cry", and I'd be the best friend, "stop playing with me!" that you'd fall in love with in the end, "I don't know why exactly, I just felt like I really needed to talk to you in person, make sure you were okay," we'd be laughing, "I told you she has no idea who you are," watching the sunset fade to black, show the names, "listening to you go on and on about Tamara?" "It's Tatiana", play the happy song. If we were a movie, you'd be the right guy and I'd be the best friend that you'd fall in love with in the end we'd be laughing watching the sunset fade to black show the names play the happy song…_


	9. Changes

Note from author: A few songs in here have been mentioned. Once again, I had no part in the production of 'See You Again' by Miley Cyrus.

Please give reviews! I want to hear what you think of this! Do you have suggestions for future plot lines or character developments/additions? Am I describing things in detail too much? Are my characters too perfect to be real? Please let me know! Constructive criticism is welcome, but please be kind!

**Chapter 8: Changes**

As my alarm clock beeped, I groaned and rolled over. I stared at the ceiling. I did not want to go to work today. It was going to be a long day. I sighed and wondered what day it was. Let's see… yesterday was one of my riding days, I remember that. I ride on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. And yesterday definitely wasn't Tuesday or Saturday because I went into work yesterday, which I also remembered. So yesterday must've been Thursday and today was … _Friday! _Ah, what a relief it was to think that. I think no matter what country you're from, what religion you follow, what race you are, you can always agree on one saying: Thank Goodness it's Friday!

I got out of bed, washed my face, let Peanut out, grabbed a cup of yogurt for breakfast, got dressed for work, did my hair and makeup, made the bed and made a grocery list which I would fulfill after work tonight.

Promptly at 7:00, I entered my office and began working. I worked diligently because my work kept my mind off of Joe and focused completely on revising my story (an update on the story of the three-legged dog who'd rescued a woman from a burning building and mysteriously disappeared two weeks ago) until lunch.

I ate lunch with one of my coworkers, Angie. Angie is a very sweet woman, very personable, and she loves to talk. So I asked her about her current story and she talked the rest of the lunch break. She is the perfect person to have lunch with if you really don't want to talk or think about something that's bugging you.

After lunch, I finished my story, submitted it to my boss, and began researching topics for my next story. I found a few interesting ideas that I would propose during the meeting we have every Monday so Mr. Mason can approve them. I wrote some ideas down and highlighted my favorites so I could do some further research on them over the weekend.

As I was leaving work, I remembered I needed to do some grocery shopping and went to the local grocery store. I decided while I was there to rent a movie (there's a Blockbuster next door to the grocery store). A good action-packed-no-mushy-gooshy-scened movie at that. I found one that sounded like a good story called "The Gridiron Gang". It sounded good and violent.

As I was leaving Blockbuster and walking to my car, the store window next door to the Blockbuster caught my attention. It was a sports store, with all sorts of fan stuff. There were baseball caps, T-shirts, jerseys, over-sized coffee mugs, foam fingers, banners, socks, shoes, jewelry, bumper stickers, key chains and all sorts of other paraphernalia for every baseball, football, basketball and soccer team I could ever name. I thought about my brothers Tim and Luke instantly. Hey, it was never too early to do some Christmas shopping. Plus, it would be nice to bring them something back for Thanksgiving.

I entered the store, browsing for Boston Rebels and Steelers stuff in particular. "Welcome to Everything Sports, can I help you find anything?" I heard from behind me while I scanned the racks of jerseys for a Big Ben jersey. I turned around to look at the speaker. He was a young, good-looking guy, looked to be about my age, with dark black hair and eyes, large eyebrows, naturally tan skin and thickly muscled arms. He looked vaguely familiar. I looked at his nametag. It read "Jake". I looked up from the nametag to his face again, and it hit me.

"Jake Duckworth?" I asked incredulously. I had had a huge crush on him in ninth grade after I'd seen him checking me out at one of Tim's basketball games. He played JV with Tim during my (and his) freshman year. After he broke up with his girlfriend in tenth grade, he and I dated for a year and then decided to just be friends afterwards.

Jake's face lit up into a bright smile. "Hey! Jenna!" he said.

"I can't believe I'm seeing you, here in Boston of all places," I exclaimed.

"I know, it's so weird," he replied. "I thought I remembered that name when I read your interview with Joe Kingman. I know you're into basketball, I didn't realize you like football too," he said. Great, the first guy I meet after the fiasco with Joe and the first thing he talks about is my interview with the blockhead.

"I don't, not at all," I laughed, "I had to fill in when the other sports writer left. So what brought you here to Boston?" I asked him.

"Oh, you know, big sports industry, I got a full scholarship to Boston University and liked it here so much I decided to stay," he replied. "What about you? I thought you wanted to live in Kentucky?"

"I went there for college, researched the price of buying a horse farm in or near Lexington, and realized I needed to save up for a while before I could even consider buying a house and leasing a stall there," I said, "So I'm staying here for a few years until I have enough money to buy a horse farm, build a stable and house and not be broke," I added laughingly.

"Hey, my shift is over in ten minutes, do you want to go get a cup of coffee or something?" he offered.

"Yeah, I'd love to." Yes! Now I didn't have to stay at home _all_ night like a loser and watch a movie by myself and wallow in self-pity. "But can you show me where some of the Steelers stuff is? I'm trying to find something for my brothers for Christmas," I asked Jake.

"Steelers stuff?" Jake scoffed, "You don't want to get them that. You're a Bostanian now, you buy them Boston Rebels stuff," he told me. I laughed and he suggested some different T-shirts, jerseys and key chains (Tim is always breaking his. What is wrong with that boy?).

After I bought enough things for both Tim and Luke's complete set of Christmas gifts, Jake was allowed to leave and took me to Starbucks for coffee.

"So how are Tim and Luke doing?" he asked me as we sat down at Starbucks.

"They're doing very well," I replied, "Tim just became coach of the JV team at Hempfield High School and he loves it. He just got engaged to his girlfriend, Kelsey, they're going to get married sometime this summer, they haven't decided when yet. Luke just started his junior year at Pitt University majoring in Physical Education. He wants to be a gym teacher at an elementary school after he graduates," I explained, "What about Trevor and Larry? How are they doing?" I asked him. Trevor and Larry are Jake's two younger brothers. Trevor is a year younger than me and Jake, twenty four, and Larry is Luke's age, twenty.

"They're great," Jake said, "Trevor is starting the next four years required to be a genetics physician at IUP and Larry is in his junior year at UCF, studying to be a physical trainer," he replied.

"UCF?" I asked. Jake nodded. "That's so cool! My aunt lives fifteen minutes away from UCF," I told Jake.

"Really?"

"Yeah, I considered going to UCF at one point because I'd be able to live with my aunt and uncle. That's really cool. Maybe next time we're down there he can come over for a visit, I'm sure Tim and Luke would love that," I suggested.

"Yeah, that'd be great," Jake said. We talked for a long time about lots of different things, mainly family and friends and stuff like that.

Around six-thirty, Jake looked at his watch with wide eyes and said, "Hey, I'm sorry, but I gotta go, I have to go pick my parents up from the airport. They came in a week early for Thanksgiving."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hold you up," I apologized.

"No, don't worry about it, it's not your fault," he said. "Hey, we should hang out some time," Jake added.

Oh yeah! Slam dunk baby! "Definitely," I agreed.

"Can I have your number?" he asked and I wrote it on the back of his hand so he wouldn't lose it. He gave me his as well on the back of my hand.

"I'll call you," Jake said as we walked out of the Starbucks.

"Yeah, definitely, call whenever. If I'm asleep, I'll have my phone off and if I'm not it'll be with me and on so feel free to call whenever you want," I told him.

"Thanks, you too," Jake said as I reached my car. "Hey, it was nice seeing you, Jenna," he called as I went around the side of my car to get in.

"It was nice seeing you, too. Have fun with your parents, tell them I said hi," I told him.

"I will, bye," Jake called waving.

"Bye," I waved back. Things were looking up again. I'd make sure he was single, lay on the flirt big time, and hopefully things would work out better this time than they did in tenth grade.

I made it home quickly, let Peanut out, and cooked a dozen pizza rolls for dinner which I ate while flipping through the mail. After feeding Peanut and showering, I popped a bag of popcorn, fixed myself of mug of hot chocolate and sat down to watch 'The Gridiron Gang' with Peanut in my lap.

The movie had a good message, it was based on a true story of a man who worked at a detention center with juvenile kids and formed them into a football team, basically. The actor that played the football coach guy looked very familiar. Something about the color of his black-white mixed skin, big brown eyes, very heavily muscled arms and deep voice reminded me of someone I knew very well. When he started imagining the juvenile boys becoming a football team, I instantly remembered who he reminded me of. Joe Kingman.

Of course! I couldn't sit down and watch a good violent movie without thinking of Joe, could I? I tried to ignore the strong resemblance and watch the movie but every once in a while would hear in my head a snippet of some conversation Joe and I had had.

Right in the middle of the movie when a member of a gang came to the football game with a gun, my cell phone rang. I sighed, paused the movie and pried Peanut's paws off of my lap. I looked at the phone and didn't recognize the number on the caller ID. I thought for a second, and the back of my hand caught my attention. The number on the back of my hand matched the number on the phone! IT WAS JAKE!!

"Hello?" I answered as calmly as possible.

"Hey, Jenna, it's Jake," Jake said, "Do you have time to talk? I mean, I didn't interrupt you or anything, did I?" he asked.

"No, no, I have time," I replied, "So how are your parents doing?" I asked.

"They're great. They were really happy to hear I bumped into you, and they said hi. Mom suggested we have dinner together one night," Jake answered.

"I would love to meet your parents for dinner one night," I said instantly, "If it's alright with you," I added.

"No, no, it's fine with me. Yeah, that'd be awesome. I'll have to let them know later on. They're asleep now, just went to bed," Jake said. "So what's up?" he asked me.

"Oh, not much, same old, same old," I replied. "What about you? What're you up to?"

"Nothing much, flipping through the channels, talking," he said. "So have you met a lot of people here since you moved to Boston?"

"Yeah, I have a couple close friends. We're going out for a girls' night out tomorrow, it's going to be lots of fun. How bout you? You probably have a whole ton of friends already!" I asked him.

"Yeah, I have a pretty nice group," he replied, sounding as if that wasn't exactly the question he had wanted to ask. However, he changed the subject and we talked for a good hour and a half. I couldn't remember talking to a guy for that long since high school! By the end of the hour and a half, I was excusing myself several times for yawning.

Eventually, I said, "Well, it's getting late, I should probably go."

"Wait, Jenna," he stopped me suddenly.

"What?"

"Hey, are you doing anything next Friday?" he asked me.

I thought for a second and slowly replied, "No-o."

"Do you wannago grabba pieceapizza and seea movie?" he blurted so fast that his words jumbled together and I couldn't understand what he was saying.

"Sorry?" I asked.

"Do you want to go grab a piece of pizza and see a movie with me next Friday?" he repeated slower.

"Yeah, I'd love to!" I replied happily.

"Awesome, what time should I pick you up?" Jake sounded very relieved.

"Why don't you come around six?" I suggested, "Do you know where my apartment building is?" I asked him.

"No, I'll need directions."

I gave Jake directions to my place and told him to wait downstairs in the lobby, just call me when he came. I already had more than enough J-named men who knew where my apartment was, unfortunately. "Hey, thanks so much for inviting me, I'm really looking forward to it," I told Jake.

"No problem, I can't wait to see you," he replied.

"Well I'm going to clean up around here and go to sleep so good-night," I said.

"Yeah, see you," he said and I hung up. I laid back down on the couch and laughed.

"In your face, Joe!" I shouted at the man who strongly resembled Joe on the TV. I decided to turn the movie off and just go to sleep. I really was getting tired; it was ten-thirty already! I put my dishes in the sink, brushed my teeth and fell asleep so fast I didn't have time to think of any boys.

The next morning, I slept until eleven o'clock; I was exhausted. When I woke up, I washed my face, changed into sweatpants and a hoodie and took Peanut for a jog in the park. Feeling good and awake, I came back home, took a shower, changed back into yoga pants and a T-shirt and grabbed a quick breakfast of yogurt and fresh strawberries.

While I was eating breakfast, I paid the bills that needed to be paid and got out my laptop. I researched each of the topics I had highlighted for work and decided on writing about the new movie "Enchanted". I book marked a few pages on my computer so I could find them easily later and do further research. I looked at the clock and saw that it was twelve thirty. I checked the Weather Channel online to see what the temperature was. It was forty-five degrees and they were predicting rain. The sky was overcast already, I could see.

I decided to go ride again and hopefully I'd make it to the barn before the rain. I bundled up and got in my car. I turned on my cell phone as I was driving, hoping that Jake would call later. I loved talking to Jake, he was so easy to talk to and distracted me from Joe. Before I knew it, I was pulling into Windy Acres' parking lot.

Emily was there, as usual, and already riding Captain in the outdoor arena. She was sharing the arena with a little girl (whose name I do not know) taking a lesson with Alice. There were two other cars in the parking lot so either two people were in the cross-ties or inside or on a trail ride. I was hoping to take Niveus on a trail ride. Maybe I could find someone who would like to join me before I left. I get nervous sometimes going out on the trail by myself.

I came into the barn and saw only one person, Penny, saddling her horse, Moose, in the cross-ties. Moose is a large Friesian-Appaloosa cross, but he's super sweet. I said hi to Niveus and Sadie and put Niveus in the cross-ties. "Hey, Penny," I asked as I did a quick brush-over Niveus.

"Yeah?" she asked, her voice a bit muffled from bending over and picking Moose's hoof out.

"Would you like to accompany Niveus and I on a trail ride? I'd really like to take him out since he's been so good, but I'd rather not take my chances when they're predicting rain," I explained.

"Sure, Moose and I would love to take a day off and go for a trail ride, thanks for inviting us," Penny said.

From then on, Penny and I had a nice conversation. I asked her how Moose's training was coming along (Moose was still a little young and in need of some further training) and she said he was learning very quickly. She asked me how Niveus was doing and I told her he'd never been better. She was telling me about how Moose had thrown his head up suddenly while she was putting his bridle on and gave her a black eye. I asked her if she had any trouble with Moose around other people and she asked what did I mean? I told her about how Joe had tried to pet both Sadie and Niveus and both of them gave him an attitude and wouldn't let him touch them.

Penny laughed, "Well for one thing, you said this was Joe Kingman, right?" she asked.

"Yeah, you know, Boston's star quarterback?" I said a little sarcastically. I hate complimenting him like that.

"Right, the real big guy," Penny said, "They might have been frightened of him because he's so large," she suggested. "Or, they could have recognized that you were acting angry and tense around him and your emotions fed into theirs. It's a funny thing about horses, they can sense when you're angry, sad, scared, happy, nervous even, and then they act according to your emotions," she explained.

"That's very true," I replied, "I never even thought about that," I said.

"Or it could have been something he was wearing. I've heard of horses who hate men that wear aftershave," she laughed and I giggled too.

"I told him they just don't like him," I laughed.

"So what was Joe Kingman doing here in the first place?" she asked me, "I read that interview you wrote with him but I thought you didn't care for football players," Penny said slyly, "Or is there more to the story?"

"Actually it's a really long story," I sighed.

"Hey, we've got time," Penny said, "Are you about ready to go?" she asked me.

"Yeah, let's go," I said. We took Moose and Niveus outside, mounted and rode down into the woods. I explained the story from the beginning about how I didn't want to interview Joe, he called me at work, made me come to the playoff games, the Josh fiasco, the dinner with him and Lindsey at my place, the flirting and then finally the blowout at the stable last Thursday and meeting Jake. Penny listened very well through the entire story and didn't interrupt me. She's a very nice woman.

"Wow, that _was_ a long story," she remarked as we crossed a creek. "I don't understand why he called you about his Russian girlfriend and then tracked you down and had to see you in person. I mean, isn't it bad enough he broke your heart, does he have to stomp all over it, too?" Penny added.

"I know, he's such a jerk," I agreed, urging Niveus up a hill.

"That's very ironic how you met Jake the next day, he sounds like a sweet guy," she commented.

"Oh yes, Jake is great. He's a very good friend. We get along so well. Like last night, I talked to him on the phone for nearly two hours. I haven't talked to a guy on the phone for that long since high school!" I added.

"If I were you, I'd forget about the lunkhead football player and go after Jake, he sounds like the keeper," Penny suggested.

"I totally agree," I said. "So how is Dennis doing?" I asked her. Dennis is Penny's husband. He is a very nice guy, loves riding Moose, is very musical, and super funny. He's quite the character, and is one of the only adult men I know that can get away with wearing a ponytail and looking good in it. He doesn't look like a motorcycle bad boy, it just fits him. We talked about Dennis's surgery on his wrist he had not long ago and how he had to take it easy so he wouldn't further damage his wrist.

Penny was just beginning to tell me how frustrating he was to be around when it started raining. "Do you want to go back now?" Penny suggested.

"Yeah, we should definitely go before the ground becomes slippery and muddy and the horses start tripping," I said. We tried to hurry back without putting the horses in danger. Thankfully, since we were under the cover of trees and it was only a light drizzle, the ground stayed pretty much just damp until we made it back to the barn. We let the horses canter as soon as we came out of the woods. The downpour started just as we were making our way back into the barn, so by the time we came back in, we were both pretty wet.

Penny and I spent quite a while brushing and drying the horses and rubbing the mud off of their ankles and out of their hooves. Then, when they were safely tucked into their stalls we spent an even longer time drying the tack so the leather wouldn't be ruined. We both decided to take the saddle pads back home to be washed and dried. After sweeping the aisle clean of our mess, Penny and I were finished and made ourselves hot chocolate in the lounge inside the barn.

The weather had been getting colder and colder as we worked and was now an icy rain rather than just a drizzle. I was really hoping to not drive home in this weather. Penny was lucky and Dennis came to pick her up. I was going to wait until the rain stopped to start driving back home when my cell phone rang.

"Hello?" I answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Jenna? It's Jake," said the voice on the other end of the receiver.

"Hey Jake, what's up?" I asked him. Yay! He called!!

"Not much. Hey, where are you?" he asked, sounding a bit anxious.

"I'm at the stable, I just got finished riding. I'm waiting for this ice rain to stop to start driving home," I explained.

"The weather reporters said it's not going to stop until late tonight, like one in the morning," Jake said.

"Really? Aw, man," I groaned.

"Where exactly is your barn?" he asked.

"About an hour outside of Boston down a little country road that will probably be the last road to be salted," I said.

"Do you want me to come pick you up?" he offered. My heart skipped a beat. HE WAS WONDERFUL!!

"Would you mind?" I asked, knowing full well the answer to my own question.

"Of course not, I want to make sure you're safe," Jake said.

"Okay, do you need directions or do you have a GPS in your car?" I asked him. He had a GPS and I gave him the address of the barn.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Jake told me.

"Thanks so much, Jake, I really appreciate this," I thanked him.

"Don't sweat it. I'll see you soon, okay?" he said.

"Alright, bye," I replied and hung up.

Jake Duckworth to the rescue!

Since it would be a while until Jake made it, I figured now was as good a time as any to finally groom Sadie thoroughly. I'd been wanting to do so for weeks now but never got around to it. I lugged my case of heavy duty grooming supplies from my locker to her stall where I decided it was easier to clean her and not have to sweep up the mess. Besides, she would be more comfortable (not to mention amiable) if she was in her stall.

Sadie wasn't extremely messy, just a little dirty. I started with the thickest, hardest curry comb and worked my way down to the finishing brush until her coat was soft, shiny and spotless. It had taken me about a half hour just to get every inch of dirt off of Sadie's legs, body, neck and face.

After her body was clean and Jake was still on his way, I cleaned out her hooves, picking the dirt out into a small bucket that I would later dump into the mucking wheelbarrow. I meticulously cleaned her hooves inside and out until they too were spotless. As soon as I dumped the bucket of hoof dirt, I started on her mane and tail, brushing and braiding it.

I had finished putting Sadie's mane into little ponytails and was just starting to braid her tail when I felt my cell phone vibrating in the pocket of my jeans. I held the pieces of hair in one hand, balanced the phone on my shoulder and continued braiding. "Hello?" I answered.

"Jenna, I'm at the bottom of the driveway to the barn but it forks. Which way should I go?" Jake asked me.

"Stay to the left," I replied. "Go all the way past the house to the very end of the driveway. It's a big white barn, you can't miss it," I told him.

"Alright, I'll be there in thirty seconds," Jake said.

"Okay. You can come right into the barn I just have to put a few things away and you can meet my horses!" I added.

"Cool. See ya," he said and I hung up. I quickly finished braiding Sadie's tail. I was just wrapping a rubber band around it when I heard Jake come inside the barn.

"Hey, Jake," I called from inside Sadie's stall. Jake had been walking past Sadie's stall looking anxious, but when he saw me his face brightened up and he came to the door of the stall.

"Hey," he said sounding very relieved. His smile stretched from ear to ear.

"Are you alright, Jake?" I asked him as I put my grooming supplies into the big case and shut it.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said. He cleared his throat. "So this is your horse?" he asked gesturing towards Sadie.

"Yep, this is Sadie," I told him and patted her neck. I watched her as she approached Jake.

"Hey, Sadie," Jake greeted her. "Is it alright if I pet her?" he asked me.

"Sure, go right ahead," I agreed.

Jake stroked her face and Sadie actually _nuzzled_ his shoulder! One thing about Sadie is she is not a very sentimental horse. She only nuzzles me and when she does she is very happy. But for her to nuzzle someone who she had never even met?! It was unreal.

Jake laughed and continued petting her. "She's a nice horse," he said.

"Thanks," I muttered, still awed at Sadie's behavior, "Jake, just out of curiosity, do you wear aftershave?" I asked him, thinking back to Penny's suggestion about Sadie's distaste to aftershave. Maybe that's why she liked him so much – he didn't wear the nasty smelling aftershave.

"Yeah, I do, why?" Jake said.

"Just wondering." Well, there goes the idea of the horses' dislike of aftershave.

I came out of the stall and closed Sadie's door. I gave her a carrot I had in the grooming box for being so nice while I brushed her. "I'll see you later, sweetie, I love you," I told Sadie and kissed her cheek. "Come over here and meet Niveus," I said to Jake, beckoning towards Niveus's stall.

Jake followed me to my horse's stall and I asked Niveus to come over and meet Jake. "This is my horse that I ride all the time. He's fantastic, aren't you boy?" I said to Niveus who had now brought his head over the stall door. "Niveus, this is Jake, Jake this is Niveus," I introduced them.

If I thought Sadie's reaction was good, you should have seen Niveus! He went nuts. Jake started petting his face and he looked like he could've crawled into Jake's lap and fallen asleep. He put his head over Jake's shoulder; his eyes drooped, his head bobbed and his lip flopped lazily a few times. I stared at my horse with growing shock. I couldn't believe how he and Sadie melted in the presence of Jake.

Now Joe is a freakishly large man, and Jake isn't as large as he is, but Jake isn't a twig either. He was six foot three and quite heavily muscled. Still, I'm not talking Joe muscle but Jake did possess large, intimidating guns!

I shook my head in disbelief and told Jake, "You can stay here if you want to, I just need to put this in my locker."

Jake didn't mind in the least, he stayed petting Niveus and didn't move an inch between the time I left and came back. "Are you ready?" he asked me.

"Yeah, let's go," I said, "Bye Niveus, I love you, dear," I told my horse and kissed his cheek, too. However Niveus was asleep already and didn't hear a word I'd said.

"It's a little slippery out there," Jake cautioned me, "so you can hold onto my arm if you want to," he offered, extending his arm.

"Thank you," I said and wrapped my arm around his.

We slowly made our way across the parking lot to my car where Jake let me get my car keys, house keys and change from my horse boots into tennis shoes so I wouldn't get horse muck in his car. As soon as I locked my car, Jake helped me over to his truck.

Jake drove a black Ford F-150 and it looked to me like it was the latest edition. He opened the passenger door for me and let me in before getting behind the wheel. As Jake sat down, he took a deep breath and started the car.

"Jake, are you sure you're alright?" I asked him curiously. I could see his hands shaking slightly.

He looked over at me and then hugged me suddenly. My eyes went wide and I patted his back awkwardly. "I'm just glad you're safe," he said into my hair which I'm sure must have smelled like horse.

Okay, yeah, he was being way overdramatic and nothing could plausibly have happened to me between the time he called me and made it to the barn, but you have to admit, he's so sweet! I hugged him back

"You're hair smells like a horse," he mumbled.

I laughed, "Sorry," I said. I let go of him and he pulled back and put his seatbelt on. He pulled slowly out of the barn parking lot and onto the road at the end of the driveway.

"Which way do I go?" he asked me before turning left or right onto the road.

"Go right," I told him.

"Would you mind telling me how to get back to Boston from here? I'd rather listen to your voice than a GPS system's," Jake asked. Awww!!

"No problem," I laughed, turning my face away so he wouldn't see it turning red. I noticed how very nice his car was. "This is a great truck, it's very roomy," I commented.

"Thanks," Jake said, "I'm glad I bought it now, it's nice in this kind of weather."

_He must have a decent job, _I thought and tried to remember what exactly his job was. He couldn't just be a sales clerk at Everything Sports. That place pays well, but not Ford F-150 well. "So do you have another job outside of working at the sports store?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm a recruit for the Boston Celtics," Jake said, pointing at his Celtics hoodie that I hadn't noticed before. Celtics attire in Boston was like Steelers Attire in Pittsburgh, lots of men wore it so when one saw it, one didn't think twice about it.

"That's awesome," I said, "how long have you been working there?"

"About two years," he replied, "After I graduated college I did some internships and a few other odd jobs here and there before getting accepted as a recruit for the Celtics," he explained.

"I see," I said, "and have you made any big recruits?"

"My biggest so far was Rajon Rondo, he's pretty good and has a lot of potential," Jake said.

As he said this, my cell phone started ringing. I took it out of my pocket and looked at the caller ID. I couldn't believe what I was seeing, and dropped the phone. "You have got to be kidding me," I muttered as the phone slipped from my fingers.

"Is something wrong?" Jake asked, "Who's calling you?"

"Joe Kingman," I said through gritted teeth as I picked the phone up off the floor.

"Aren't you going to answer it?" he asked when I dusted the phone off and glared at it.

"I guess," I sighed. If Jake hadn't wanted me to pick it up, I would have ignored it altogether.

"Hello?" I answered, my tone suggesting I was annoyed.

"Hey Jenna," Joe said sounding happy which only made me angrier. Oh sure! Just stomp all over the broken pieces of my heart not even two nights ago and then call me now as if nothing has happened.

"Hello Joe," I said, trying not to sound icy in the presence of Jake.

"What's up? Are you doing anything right now?" Joe asked me.

"Yeah, Jake is taking me home from the stables. I just rode Niveus," I explained, beginning to enjoy this opportunity to talk to Joe. I could tell him all about how Jake had come to my rescue and my horses loved him and oh wouldn't he be jealous!

"Who's Jake?" Joe asked instantly.

"Oh, he's an old high school friend I ran into yesterday," I said casually.

"So did Jake meet your horses?" Joe continued. He wanted to know if they were mean to Jake too. Hahaha!!

"Yeah, they absolutely love him. I couldn't believe it, Sadie actually nuzzled him and Niveus looked like he could crawl up into his lap and go to sleep," I said.

"Really?" Joe seemed incredulous. "They didn't even pull back or throw their heads back a little bit?" he asked.

"Nope, they loved him," I replied, rubbing it in. Oh, this was fun!

"Hmm, well, I just wanted to see how you were doing," Joe said.

"I'm just fine," I replied leaving the _without you_ part out of my response though I was thinking it, "How are you and Teri doing?" I asked.

"You mean Tatiana?" he suggested.

"Whatever."

"We're fine," Joe said, "Well, I have some – uh – work I gotta do so I'll talk to you later, Jenna," he said. Yeah right. Work to do my butt.

"Okay, bye," I said and hung up.

"Do you talk to Joe Kingman often?" Jake asked after I put my cell phone back in my purse.

"I try not to but he calls me a lot," I said.

"How did you meet Joe Kingman?" he asked.

"Well I did that interview with him and then he gave me tickets to a Rebels game and made me do another story on that, then he got one of his friends to talk to me and got my number and it kind of snowballed from there," I replied.

"So I guess you meet a lot of people working as a journalist, huh?" said Jake.

"Actually Joe is the first notable person I've met. I'm not supposed to write the sports column, believe it or not, so I seldom write interviews," I said. "So how are your parents? Are they enjoying Boston?" I asked him, eager to change the subject. I didn't want _him _getting jealous of Joe.

"Oh yeah, my mom loves it here. This is their third visit since I moved here two years ago, and you know how often my dad takes a vacation," Jake replied and I laughed. When it came to business, Mr. Duckworth was all work and very rarely had time to take a vacation. He was just too focused on his work. An admirable quality, I suppose, but rather boring. "But they're both good. They were asking about you last night," Jake added, smiling at me. I smiled back and a chill ran up my spine – he was so cute when he smiled!

"What about me?"

"You know, the usual," Jake coughed after a pause. Okay, as Miley Cyrus once said in her song "See You Again", I'm not a mind reader, but I'm reading the signs. His parents were definitely asking about more than 'the usual'. Hmm, did they like the idea of me and Jake or were they trying to discourage him from it? I could see quite clearly that, if they were discouraging him, he didn't care too much about what they thought from the way he had so eagerly picked me up and his hand that wasn't on the wheel was inching towards mine.

"Will you need to go anywhere else today?" he asked me.

"Yeah, my friends and I are going out tonight," I replied, wondering where he was going with this.

"Okay, would you rather stay at my place, then, until the weather clears up and then I'll take you back to get your car or do you have a ride to go out?" he offered. And really, what kind of doofball (other than Lindsey) would decline an offer to stay at his place until the weather clears up? Obviously, not me!

"I'd love to stay with you," I said instantly and I could swear I saw his face light up. At least he didn't stop smiling the whole way to his house. After this, it took Jake about ten minutes to drive back to his place. He pulled onto a street with a sign on the corner reading _Oakridge_. How quaint! The houses in the neighborhood were small but cozy looking, and it reminded me much of my own neighborhood I grew up in, Greenridge. The names were even similar! "You own a house?" I asked him.

"Yeah, I'll probably stay here for a while so I figured I might as well settle in and have my own place. Besides, you probably pay as much in rent each year as I do in mortgage, but I can get money back when I sell my house, unlike an apartment. Anyway, I prefer the smaller neighborhood environment to the hustle and bustle of the city," Jake explained.

"All very good points," I admitted, "I like this neighborhood, it's very cute," I said. Jake pulled into the driveway of a small, one story and a half house. It was one of those houses that has the main floor, a few steps up, and the next floor, plus a few steps down from the first floor to a basement. "Aww, I love your house!" I said, and unbuckled my seatbelt.

"Wait a second, let me help you," Jake told me, got out of the truck and cautiously walked over to my door and opened it for me. "Be careful, it's icy," he warned me. I grasped his arm and he helped me down. With a yelp, I slid as soon as my foot hit the ground and I clenched Jake's arm for support. He put his opposite arm that I wasn't holding onto around my waist and helped me balance. "Are you okay?" he asked me.

"Yeah, just a little humiliated," I replied honestly. He laughed and started walking slowly towards his front door. I put my arm around his waist, which helps one balance much better than just holding an arm by the way, and we slowly inched our way into his house.

Upon reaching the door, Jake unlocked the door with his hand that wasn't around me, opened the door, and gestured inward, saying, "After you." I thanked him, stepped into his house, and welcomed the beginning of a very different lifestyle.

Note from the author: This is kind of a 'to be continued' chapter. The original chapter would have been too long. I'm currently working on Chapter 9. Please be patient and review in the meantime so the writing is easier! :)


	10. Surprise!

**Note from author:** This picks up the very second after chapter 8 left off. Please review, don't be afraid to give negative comments but please don't be harsh. I hope I'm fulfilling everyone's highest expectations, but remember, the story isn't even halfway done yet, so just keep watching, waiting, and reading, and maybe you'll like the way it turns out. Once again, all religious material is strictly characteristic to the characters. If you don't want to believe the things Joe and Jenna believe, I'm not going to influence you otherwise. But hey, this is America, we have freedom of press, speech and religion, so I don't think this should offend anybody. If it does, please inform me and I will try to unoffend you. Thanks! :)

**Chapter 9: Surprise!**

I stopped just inside the door to take in my surroundings. The entrance faced a few steps to the upper level of the house and around a wall, I could see the beginnings of a living room to my right. To my left, there was an archway into what appeared to be a dining room, furnished with a table, four surrounding chairs, and not much else. Through the dining room I could see the doorway into what I guessed was a kitchen. Behind me, Jake closed and locked the door, took off his coat, hung it on the coat rack, and offered to help me out of my coat as well. I let him take my horse-spit-covered coat and I removed my nasty horse-muck-covered boots.

From somewhere to my left, I assumed the kitchen I heard a woman's voice call, "Jake, is that you?"

I turned to Jake, my eyes wide. What was another woman doing here? When the speaker came through the dining room, I realized why.

"Hi mom," Jake said.

There she was. Mrs. Duckworth. Standing right in front of me, smiling, surprised but pleased to see me. In Jake's house. Oh boy.

"Hi Mrs. Duckworth, how are you?" I finally said, a little breathlessly.

"Hi Jenna, how are you, dear?" She replied, her smile growing, if possible, as she embraced me.

"Superfluous," I answered, my voice muffled as she hugged me tightly. I love Jake's family.

"Bill, come down here, hon," she called as she let go of me.

Of course, Mr. Duckworth came walking downstairs, and his face, too, lit up, though not nearly as impressively as his wife's had, as he saw me. "Jenna! How are you sweetheat?" He asked and pulled me into an embrace again.

"I'm absolutely fantastic, how are you, Mr. Duckworth?" I replied.

"Very good, thank you," he said, then added, "So I hear Jake had to come rescue you."

"Yes, I was stranded at my stable in the middle of nowhere. I'm so fortunate that Jake called me when he did. Otherwise, who knows when I would make it home, if I did make it home. He's a real lifesaver," I answered, smiling over at Jake, who had been watching me and smiling this whole time.

"My pleasure," he said. I smiled again.

"Come in, sit down, hon," Mrs. Duckworth ushered me into the living room, which was very tastefully furnished and surprisingly immaculate for a bachelor's house. Then again, his parents were visiting, so the cleanliness was more than likely due to Mrs. Duckworth than Jake's own good habits. There was a large, flatscreen TV against the one wall, with a large, comfy looking sofa in front of it, another armchair in the corner, a fireplace against the opposite wall with another comfy looking sofa in front of it, along with two armchairs. A large window took up most of the space on the right wall. On the left wall was a doorway into a backroom that I assumed Jake used as his study due to the large desk, computer and scattered papers I could see in the room. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace.

Mrs. Duckworth directed me over to the sofa in front of the fireplace and she and I sat down there. Jake excused himself to get changed and freshen up quickly. Mr. Duckworth sat in one of the armchairs near the fireplace. Since Jake was gone, Mrs. Duckworth told me in a low tone, "We were so happy when Jake told us he ran into you the other day."

"Oh, well thank you, I was very pleased to see him again, myself. It was just what I'd needed that day," I replied.

"Well, the thing is, it was just what Jake needed too," she continued, checking to make sure Jake wasn't in the room, added in an even quieter tone, "He's been having a little bit of trouble finding a girlfriend since he moved to Boston."

"Really? He had so many girls all over him in high school. Why would he have any trouble now?" I pondered aloud, completely shocked by this new enlightenment.

"Well, the thing is, the only time he's ever in a situation where he might meet someone, it's a sport event. And then, that Joe Kingman is always there and all the girls crowd around him. Jake and all the other men there might as well be girls for all that the women care about them. And if Jake tries to say anything to any of them, they ignore him, and go talk to Joe instead. It's extremely frustrating for him. I'm so glad he ran into you, I was beginning to think this girl issue would start effecting his self-confidence and positive attitude he usually has," Mrs. Duckworth explained.

As if he knew that we were talking about him, Joe called my cell phone at exactly that time. I had been looking at Mrs. Duckworth and winced when my phone rang. "Please excuse me for a minute," I apologized, taking my phone out of my pocket, and, upon seeing that it was Joe, gripped the phone so hard my knuckles went white. I debated mentally whether I should answer it or not. I decided I could call him back if it was something really important, which it probably wasn't, and sent the call directly to voicemail. I turned the phone down to vibrate while I was at it and replaced it in my pocket.

Mrs. Duckworth looked at me in a strange way. "Who was that?" she asked.

"Oh, just Joe Kingman," I said, blushing.

She laughed, and when she saw I wasn't joking, asked, "Wait, are you serious?"

I showed her my cell phone that said, "ONE MISSED CALL: JOE KINGMAN".

Mr. Duckworth looked over and asked, "You know Joe Kingman?"

I grimaced, "Yeah, kinda," I replied, "I once had to interview him for my job as a journalist for the _Boston Press_."

"Oh," Mr. Duckworth said, and I saw him and Mrs. Duckworth exchange worried glances, as if saying to each other, "Oh no! That Joe Kingman has her under his spell too! Maybe there is no hope for our son!"

I quickly reassured them, "But no worries, I much prefer Jake. Joe is a jerk," I replied. Their faces eased slightly and they smiled at me.

At that time, Jake reentered the room in a new shirt and smelling really good. He sat down next to me (pretty darn close to me!) and put his arm around the back of the couch, which, by extension, was around my back. I scooted in closer to him and let his arm fall across my shoulder.

"So what's up?" he asked me.

"Nothing, nothing's up," I replied calmly, still smiling at him. I was probably being rude, but for some reason or another, I couldn't take my eyes off Jake. Those eyes, they were so big and brown. That skin, so clear. Those teeth, so perfect (even better than _other_ perfect teeth). Gosh, he was _so_ hot! Taking a quick breath, I was overcome by the smell of cologne, and it smelled good. "Mmm, you smell good," I told him.

He laughed and said, "Thanks. You smell…" he sniffed me, "like a horse."

I giggled and said, "Ahh, my favorite scent!" He laughed again at this.

"We'll leave you two alone." I had forgotten Mr. and Mrs. Duckworth were in the room until Mrs. Duckworth said this. She stood up and gestured for Mr. Duckworth to follow her out of the room. He looked outraged, as if he didn't want to leave. "Come _on_, Bill," Mrs. Duckworth muttered, and pulled him out of the room.

I looked back over at Jake and sighed happily, laying my head on his shoulder. "I love it here. Your parents are so nice. Your house is so cozy. Your sofa is so comfy. And then of course, you," I looked up at him, "you are so… handsome, and sweet, and wonderful."

Jake smiled. "I'm glad you like it here, you should come over more often," he said.

"I would love to," I said, "Maybe I should get stranded at the barn during an ice storm more often."

"You don't have to be stranded to come over," Jake said, smiling weakly, "I'd honestly prefer if you came over even when you're not stranded. I was so afraid for you today," he admitted.

I smiled again at Jake. "You're so sweet," I repeated.

Jake smiled again. (Wow, we were smiling a lot. It seems like every other sentence is 'I smiled' or 'he smiled' or 'we smiled'. But it's the truth. We were really happy. Hey, it's better than frowning!) "Is it alright if I never leave this spot?" I asked him, burying my face in his chest.

"It's cool with me," he replied and kissed the top of my head, sending a shiver down my spine. "Are you cold?" he asked me.

"No, I'm fine," I replied, my voice muffled from speaking into his chest.

"You just shivered," he continued.

"Oh, not because I'm cold though," I said.

"Then why?"

Couldn't he just drop it? "Cuz." I said.

"No really why?"

"Just cuz of you," I muttered.

"Because I disgust you or because you like me?" As if he really needed an answer to that.

"What do you think?" I asked him, looking up at his face.

"Well I hope that it's because you like me and get excited when I do this," he replied, and kissed my cheek this time. My face turned scarlet. "Am I right?" he asked me.

"Bingo." I giggled. He smiled. "Does it work on you?" I asked him.

"Does what work on me?"

"Do you get excited when I do this?" I leaned up and kissed his cheek.

His smile got very big and, leaning against his chest, I could feel his heartbeat quicken.

"I guess it does," I laughed. He laughed and winked at me. Even doing something corny like that, he looked so hot doing it.

"Did I hear you say that you're cold, Jenna?" Mrs. Duckworth asked, popping into the room from the study. I suppose she must have been listening to us. Oh boy. That's embarrassing. Well, from the look on her face, I'd say she was pretty pleased with what she'd heard.

"No, no I'm fine. Thanks anyway, Mrs. Duckworth," I replied.

"Are you sure you don't want me to make you a mug of hot chocolate?" She offered, "It's my specialty!"

I looked up at Jake. "She does make really really good hot chocolate," he admitted.

"Sure, I'll have some. Thank you, Mrs. Duckworth," I said.

"Mom, can I have one too, please?" Jake added.

"Sure thing, I'll be right back with it," she said and hurried away, a broad grin stretching across her face.

"Your mom is so nice," I said to Jake.

"Thanks," he said, smiling. "Hey can I ask you something?"

"Sure, fire away," I said, and giggled.

He took a breath then asked, "What's so funny?"

I giggled again, "Is that your big question?" I laughed.

He laughed quickly and said, "No, but why're you laughing?" My laughter was contagious and he had started laughing too.

"Why not? I'm happy to be with you, you're happy to be with me, I think; your mom and dad are happy that I'm with you. What's there to be sad about?" I replied between short laughs. When I'd finished my sentence, I laughed even harder.

Jake was laughing too. "Good point," he replied.

Pretty soon we were both laughing pretty hard and when Mrs. Duckworth came in with our hot chocolate we were both pretty much hysterical.

"I'm glad you two are having a good time," she said, setting our hot chocolate down on the coffee table next to Jake's side of the sofa. She kissed his head and mine upon exiting. "Hmm, Jake, you do smell good, and Jenna, you do smell like a horse," she commented. Jake and I just laughed harder at this.

"Thanks, Mrs. Duckworth," I gasped between laughs.

"You're welcome, I hope you enjoy it. You have to tell me how you like it when you're done," she replied, oblivious to her insult. Oh well, she didn't mean it offensively. Mrs. Duckworth walked out of the room.

When Jake and I calmed down and stopped laughing, I wiped my eyes and said, "Hey Jake, could you hand me a mug of hot chocolate?"

"Yeah, no problem," he said and removed his arm from my shoulder to hand me the hot chocolate. My shoulder was cold now that his arm was gone.

I sipped it. It was still warm, and it was absolutely delicious. It tasted like chocolate, with a hint of… was it… hazelnut? A few puffy marshmallows floated about in the mug, and added to the flavor. I had never and still to this day have never tasted hot chocolate as wonderfully unique as this. I loved it. "Oh my gosh! This is delicious!" I said.

"Glad you like it," Jake said, replacing his arm around my shoulder and squeezing me close to him. I looked up at him and giggled. He smiled and leaned down like he was going to kiss me. Until…

There was a huge clatter at the window and we looked to see what it was. The ice rain had started again and was raining even harder now than it was before. The sky had turned black and the rain came down in sheets. The driveway was hardly visible through all the rain, which made a terrible clatter on the window and on the roof. The fire in the fireplace crackled and glowed stronger as the rain came down harder. It made me feel so cozy to be inside cuddled up next to Jake.

I snuggled in closer to Jake and said, "I feel so nice and cozy."

Jake smiled down at me and hugged me to his side. "Do you want a blanket?" he asked.

"Sure," I agreed. Jake put his mug down on the coffee table, turned around, and grabbed the blanket on the top of the sofa behind our heads. He spread it over us and put up the foot rest on the sofa. Now I felt even cozier! "Thanks," I said.

"No problem." Jake picked up his hot chocolate again, took a sip, smiled at me, and rubbed my shoulder.

"So what was the big question you wanted to ask me?" I inquired.

He took a deep breath, sipped his hot chocolate, stared out the window, and then looked back down at me again.

"What?" I prodded.

"I just wanted to know…" he started, cleared his throat, rubbed his nose, and took another sip of hot chocolate.

"Know what?"

"I was just wondering…"

"Yes?" The suspense was killing me!

"Well, I wanted to know if, uh…"

"Oh Jake, for Pete's sake, just spit it out already!" I exclaimed.

"How much do you like me?" he blurted out.

"How much do I like you?" I repeated after a pause.

"Yeah."

"On a scale of one to ten with one being absolute hate and ten being head-over-heels in love, I'd say you are an 8.5," I replied.

"8.5?"

"Yeah."

"What is an 8.5?" Jake asked.

"I really like you a lot, I'm not totally in love with you, and I don't want to say you're a 9 until I know what you feel about me," I explained.

"What if I told you that you are a 9 in my book?" He asked.

"That would bump you up to a 9 then," I replied simply.

"Okay, so you really like me and I really like you, then, right?" he checked.

"You got it."

"Well, in that case, do you want to just see each other?" he offered.

I was a little shocked by this sudden offer. "Wow, can I see the bottoms of your feet?" I asked quickly.

"Why?" he asked.

"Just let me see them," I said. He showed me the bottoms of his feet. "Just as I suspected," I muttered.

"What? What's wrong with them?" he asked.

"Nothing's wrong with them. And there certainly isn't any grass growing on them either," I replied and giggled.

"Come again?" Jake asked.

"It's just an old joke my Aunt Juli and I always had," I said, "I just mean you don't wait too long for anything do you?"

"No, why waste life? It's too short to be wasted," Jake said simply.

"That's an excellent point. As to your question, I'd love to," I answered without thinking twice.

"Really?" Jake said incredulously.

"Really."

"Wow, that was a lot simpler than I thought it would be," Jake muttered to himself.

"Well, I already know you make a good guy, I really like you, I've been sort of lonely lately, and there's no one else I'd consider seeing. So why not?" I said.

"Works for me," Jake replied. He left the matter at this, and, before I knew what was happening, he leaned down and kissed me right on my unsuspecting lips!

I was shocked a little at first, then I realized I should be enjoying it and wrapped my arm (not holding hot chocolate) around him. His arm around my shoulder squeezed me tighter. He put his mug down on the table and ran his hand through my hair. Finally, he pulled back to take a breath, still running his hand through my hair and down my cheek.

A huge smile spread across my face and proliferated onto Jake's. "Sorry about that, I've wanted to do that since I saw you Friday," he said.

"No problem, I don't mind," I giggled.

"By the way, you may not smell very good," we paused here to laugh shortly, "but you do taste really good," he laughed.

I giggled. "What do I taste like?" I asked. Hey, I'm curious. How many times does anyone ever tell you that you taste good anyway?

"Mom's hot chocolate," he said.

"Well, I'm glad I don't taste bad," I replied. He laughed again.

"So who wants lunch?" Mrs. Duckworth offered, hurrying into the room.

Throughout the rest of the afternoon I spent at Jake's house, I counted the times I felt my phone vibrate. By three o'clock (at which time the ice rain had stopped and I asked Jake to take me back to the stable to retrieve my car so I could go home and get ready to go out), I counted five missed calls. That is, including the first call I got from Joe while I was talking to Mrs. Duckworth. Joe really needed to get a life.

Jake drove me back to the stable around three thirty, and consequently, back to my car. I thanked him for having me and he reminded me of our plans on Friday night. I promised I wouldn't forget and drove home speedily. Poor Peanut was going to wet his fur if he was in that house any longer!

After I had settled the Peanut matter, I checked my phone. I had three voicemails, and had missed 5 calls, just as I'd predicted. Two calls were from Joe. One was from Angela, another from Lindsey, and the last from Natasha (another friend who was participating in the GNO tonight). What a relief. They weren't all from Joe. I checked my voicemails next.

"You have three unheard messages," my cell phone told me.

"So I hear," I muttered to my phone.

"First unheard message, 'Hey Jenna, it's Angela. Just checking to make sure you're still coming with us tonight for our GNO! Whoo! I hope you can come, it will be so much fun. I got a call from Natasha and she was asking if she could get a ride with you to Barnie's, you know where we're going to eat tonight. It's a great restaurant, by the way, I once dated the son of the man who owns it. Ugh, what a mess. Anyway, I told Nat to just call you because I couldn't answer for you, and then she needed your phone number, but when I went to get your number, I found a note that my boyfriend left for me and you would not believe the nerve that boy has saying that I need to get…'" the message cut off at this point. I laughed. I can't remember a single message I got from Angela where she didn't talk longer than she had time to. Oh Angela. I skipped the message and continued with the next.

"Next unheard message, 'Hey Jenna, it's Natasha. I would like to know if you could possibly give me a ride to Barnie's tonight. My car's at the shop. I live just around the block from you, so hopefully I won't be too out of the way. Anyway, call me. I'll talk to you later, bye.'" I skipped this message also, thinking I'd get back to it later.

"Next unheard message, 'Uh, hey, Jenna. It's Joe. Hey, listen, I really need to talk to you. Please call me back, it's important. Bye.'"

¡Dios mios! I sighed heavily and took the return calls in order.

I called Angela, confirmed my participation in the GNO, then called Natasha and told her I'd gladly take her to Barnie's. Then came the dreaded call. Joe.

I crossed my fingers, mentally pleading that he wouldn't answer the phone, and mentally groaned when he did.

"Hey, Jenna," Joe sounded exhausted as he answered the phone.

"H-hi, Joe. What's wrong?" I asked. Something was definitely wrong. I had never heard him sound this depressed.

Joe groaned on the other end of the phone. "You know Webber?" he said.

"Umm, Webber the football player, you mean?"

"Yeah, that Webber."

"I know of him, I don't think I've ever met him, though. Why?" I replied.

"Well uh, he was in a, uh, a motorcycle accident yesterday," Joe stuttered as if he couldn't believe the words himself.

"Oh! Oh I'm so sorry! Is he okay?" I gasped.

"He's real beat up, but he's going to be fine. He broke his leg and shoulder, and he sprained his wrist. He's still in the hospital."

"Oh, I'm so glad he's okay. I hope that he's okay for the next playoff game," I replied, though the last half of the statement was entirely false.

"Yeah, I don't want to think about it right now. Anyway, I was calling to ask you – uh – you're one of those real religious people right?" he asked uncertainly.

I chuckled at his terminology. "Yes, I suppose you could say that."

"Well – um – could you, uh, put in a good word with God or something?" he requested awkwardly.

"What do you mean, put in a good word with God? I thought you said he was going to be fine," I said.

"He is he is," he reassured me quickly, "I mean, could you like ask him to uh speed up the healing process a little bit? I mean, we need him, he's one of the best players on the team, except for me, of course," he chuckled.

This made me laugh. I laughed until my sides hurt.

"What?" He sounded offended.

"Joe, if I could just pray to God and say 'Hey God, by the way, could you fix Webber's bones up so he can win the big game? Oh and by the way, it'd be really awesome if I could fly, too!' Trust me, if that's all you had to do, a lot more people would go to church," I replied.

"Can you do anything to help him?" Joe sounded exasperated again.

"Well, I can pray that he would heal quickly, but it won't be an overnight ordeal, and I can't make gaurentees. I can only try, I just hope you realize that," I reminded him.

"Okay, well, uh, thanks anyway," Joe said. I felt bad. He sounded so disappointed.

"Sorry, Joe. I wish I could help more," I apologized.

"Don't worry about it. I'll see you later, Jenna," he said.

"Bye, Joe." I hung up.

Oh, now I felt really bad. Poor Webber. I really did genuinely wish he would heal soon. Poor Joe. He sounded really depressed. But was he depressed because of Webber being hurt or because he thought they might lose the big game now? I couldn't figure him out.

I tried to brush thoughts of Webber away as I got ready to go out but for some reason they just kept coming back. On my way to Natasha's house, I prayed out loud that Webber would get better and that I wouldn't be so distracted tonight that I would be no fun at all.

I picked up Natasha and put a happy smile on my internally worried face when she hopped into the car, and feigned a carefree and light-hearted mood. Unfortunately for me, I'm not an excellent actress when I'm upset and Natasha is an unusually observant woman.

Halfway to Barnie's, she stopped telling a story when I didn't laugh at the funny line she'd quoted, and said, "Alright, Jenna, what's wrong?"

"What do you mean? Nothing's wrong," I said defensively.

"Do I have stupid written across my forehead or something? I know you better than that to know that something isn't right. You're usually so upbeat and cheerful and you laugh at everything even if it's not funny. I haven't seen a sincere smile on your face since I got in the car, your knuckles are white on the steering wheel, and I can tell you aren't really listening to what I'm saying by the way you are nonresponsive and keep shuddering. What's wrong?" It's amazing how well Natasha can assess my every emotion when we don't even spend very much time together.

I sighed heavily. "Well, do you know who Joe Kingman is?"

"Of course I do, who doesn't?"

"Well I had to do that interview with him once for the sports column after Fred quit, remember? So ever since then he's been calling me and showing up in my life, but that's another story entirely. Anyway, he just called me today, not long before I left to get you, and told me that the other player on his team, his name is Webber something or another, was in a motorcycle accident and is in the hospital now," I elaborated.

"Oh my goodness! Is he okay?" Natasha gasped, her green eyes going suddenly wide.

"Oh yes, he's fine."

"Well, do you know this man Webber well? Is he your good friend or something?" she prodded.

"No! That's the strange thing about this that I don't understand – I've never formally met this man. It's just that I keep thinking about it and I have this strong urge to see him. I don't understand why, I'm so confused," I added.

"Hmm," Natasha reflected thoughtfully on this for a moment, shaking her head slowly from side to side, her black curls bouncing as she did, before saying, "Maybe something is meant to happen when you go see him, like maybe you'll meet someone there who will change your life forever. Maybe it's God trying to make you go visit Webber in the hospital," she suggested.

"I didn't know you were a believer!"

"Well, I sort of am, I kind of struggle with certain concepts, but I do believe that God makes things happen for a reason, and that if you are meant to meet someone or witness something, He will make things happen that will make you want to be there," she said.

"That is an excellent point," I said, contemplating what she had said, "I think once I go home today, I'm going to call Joe and ask for Webber's room number so I can go visit him," I decided.

"Good plan, let me know how it turns out," Natasha agreed as we pulled up at Barnie's and got out of the car. "So what was the other story about Joe?" she asked.

"Oh, that's a long story," I said, hoping this would make her drop the subject. Luckily, if that didn't work, Angela would be talking so much, I wouldn't have the chance to tell her anyway.

"And I don't think Angela can restrain herself from talking long enough to let you tell it, so I suppose I'll have to wait and hear it later," Natasha obliged as if she'd read my mind.

I mentally thanked God for sparing me the storytelling session.

"Jenna! Natasha! Over here!" I heard Angela yell from across the restaurant. We walked over and sat down at the table that was already full, except for two empty seats meant for Natasha and I. Angela, Betsy, Carrie, Daphne, Elaine, Frances, Gracie and Hannah were waiting for us at the table. Dinner lasted a good two hours and there was never a moment of silence during those two hours. We discussed Carrie's new boyfriend, Angela's ex-boyfriend, Gracie's new haircut, Hannah's new car, and oh my good golly gosh! Did you see who that skanky girl Brittany has been hanging around lately? Dear me, and I heard that her sister, Ashley, has a job at the bar, Stars and Stripes (more commonly known to everyone who knows anything about the city as Stars and Strippers) now too. But you know, everyone knows that her mother was the biggest slut in Boston. Speaking of which, did you hear about that new movie theater they just put in?

Yes, this was how the conversation went on for three more hours at the club that we went to after dinner. Yet, interesting as that conversation sounds, my mind stubbornly wandered all night, no matter how hard I fought it, to thoughts of Webber in the hospital. I wondered what I was doing here, allowing my IQ to drop by the second while I listened to this gossip, when I should be visiting Webber. Then I wondered what I was doing yearning to be in a hospital visiting a man I had never formally met while I was supposed to be enjoying a nice GNO.

However, the urge was becoming more and more overpowering. I didn't want to be the first to leave like a dork. But I really didn't want to stay. It wasn't until Natasha saw the uncomfortable look on my face, and, knowing why, leaned over and whispered to me, "Why don't you go visit Webber. I can tell by the way you've been acting all night you want to and you're clearly not enjoying the gossip," she said.

"How could you tell? You know how I usually love listening about Slutty Sally," I joked.

She smiled, "Just go, I'll cover for you."

"Thanks so much, I owe you big time," I said, "Have fun without me."

"Without you? Are you kidding me? How do you expect me to get home? You were my ride here," she protested.

"Right, sorry. But don't you want to stay?"

"Angela," Natasha called across the table, "I think that chicken I had was badly cooked, my stomach is feeling a bit tipsy. Jenna's going to drive me home. This was really fun, though. We'll see you later," she improvised. I love Natasha.

"Oh! Are you sure? Can't you stay? We could get you a soda water. Waiter! Over here please," Angela protested, gesturing for the waiter.

"No, really, I need to go NOW. Jenna, come on, unless you want puke all over your leather seats," she said, and dragged me away, pretending to hold down vomit as we ran.

When we reached the car we were laughing and I thanked her for getting me out of there. I drove her home, she wished me luck with whatever God had planned for me, and I drove home as fast as I could.

I hadn't even gotten to the elevator and my phone was already dialing Joe's number.

After one short ring, Joe picked up as if he had been expecting a call. "Jenna?"

He must not have been expecting my call.

"Hi Joe," I said. I really should have thought about what I was going to say before I called because now I was totally blanking out and probably sounded like a complete idiot.

"So… what's up?" Joe asked when I didn't say anything.

"Oh not much, how bout you?" I replied automatically, then slapped myself in the forehead for being so stupid.

"Just hanging out, waiting for news on Webber," he answered, sounding confused. He was probably thinking something along the lines of _why is Jenna calling me at 10:00 on a Saturday night to discuss what's up when she probably hates my guts right now and wouldn't give me the time of day when I called earlier this very day and asked her what was up? _

_Come on, Jenna, _I thought furiously to myself, _just ask him about Webber!!_ "So, I was wondering if you could possibly tell me what room Webber is in at the hospital?" I managed to ask.

There was a brief pause in which I'm sure Joe tried to figure out why I was asking for this information until he finally just decided to ask me. "Why do you want to know?"

"Well, I've been thinking about it all night and I feel like I should go visit him," I replied honestly.

"Oh, well, I'm going to visit him tomorrow around noon. Do you want me to just pick you up and take you with me?" he offered.

I considered his proposal for a moment and decided there was no harm in what he was offering, so I said, "Okay, but on a strictly for-Webber-friends-only basis."

"Of course. Friends-only, for-Webber," he repeated.

"Okay. Thanks, Joe," I said, feeling better already.

"No problem. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Oh wait! Before you go, is Webber allergic to anything like nuts or peanut butter or anything?" I asked.

"Not that I'm aware of, why?"

"Well, I was going to make him brownies or something to take with me. I've never been in the hospital overnight before, so I don't have first hand experience, but I hear the food is disgusting," I explained.

Joe laughed. "No, I don't think he's allergic to anything," he said.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow at noon, then?"

"Tomorrow at noon."

"Sounds like a plan. Bye."

"Bye, Jenna."

I hung up feeling very relieved. After I got into my comfy sweats, I baked a big batch of brownies for Webber (and his team who undoubtedly would end up stealing poor Webber's food). I fell asleep that night with my house smelling of chocolate, always a good thing, and had dreams of Webber, Jake, Joe, chocolate and sluts. Needless to say, it was a very entertaining dream.


End file.
